Without A Net
by Manita
Summary: Sequel to Blind Before the Looking Glass. After Byakuya's apparent treason, Ichigo is picking up the pieces of his life and hanging on to the 6th any way he can. Meanwhile, in the living world, Byakuya and Renji struggle to survive, alone and hunted in a city full of hollows. What they all need is a helping hand but, new friends or old, that's not always an easy thing to find.
1. Prologue: Eyes of the World

The blow caught him solidly in the gut. Yasutora bounced off the barrier and hit the ground hard, breath rushing from him in an oof of expelled air. As he skidded on his back across the sand, he fought the instinct to inhale.

This wasn't the first time he'd been winded so he knew how it went, but that didn't stop his body from reacting. His ribs flexed pointlessly, his lungs burned, and still he couldn't breathe. The crowd's ecstatic cheering kicked up a notch, and just when he was starting to think that this was it, that this time he really was going to buy it, Jackie's screamed warning reached his ears. Yasutora opened his eyes, saw what was coming, and sucked in a huge shocked breath.

His frantic duck and roll only just got him clear of the massive hoof driving into the ground where his head had been less than a second before. Choking yellow dust billowed into the air in its wake, providing some useful cover. Still fighting to breathe, Yasutora took advantage, scrambling further away from the hollow that was grunting obscenities as it hunted for him in the murk.

The hollow they'd been set against today was about fifteen feet tall and looked a bit like a tailless T-rex with small arms and huge feet. Except it stood on hooves not claws, and its tongue was prehensile and muscled like another limb. It was that which had got Yasutora, and suddenly having a weapon of that calibre used against him had upped the threat from the hollow tenfold.

The dust began to settle. The hollow saw him, bellowed, and hooves the size of a small car slammed into the ground beside him as he pushed off, using his tenuous reiatsu control to give himself a burst of speed. Not real shunpo, of course, just like the red blasts of energy Jackie was hurling at the back of the hollow's head weren't kidō. Only shinigami could use shunpo and kidō and, since Yasutora and Jackie weren't shinigami, they couldn't have the reiatsu to use them, now could they?

That was lies, all of it. According to everything Yasutora had heard, innate power had nothing to do with anything. The only difference between the ones sitting up in the stands and those dying here on the sands was when you got picked up by the Gotei and where. Serving shinigami came from the camps. Fighters like Jackie and him got caught on the streets of Rukongai, and for an adult with spiritual energy, being found out there was always a death sentence. Killing fields or pits, it just took some longer to die than others.

Jackie's kidō attacks finally got the hollow's attention. With a bellowing scream, it abandoned its pursuit of Yasutora and spun on her instead, head lowering and tongue lashing out from between gaping jaws. Yasutora, seeing his chance, went for the back of its right knee, slamming his reiatsu reinforced fist into the soft rear of the joint, feeling as much as hearing it, crunch.

The hollow screamed again, this time in pain, and swung back around, staggering as its damaged leg refused to co-operate. Jackie went for the other knee with her feet, a high scissor kick that took out the remaining joint sideways. The hollow went down, the ground shaking under the impact, but it wasn't out yet. It swiped a clawed fist at Jackie.

Choking on dust, she only just managed to dodge beneath it, and ended up leaving herself open to its long prehensile tongue. It whipped around her waist, lifting her high above the hollow's head and held her there as more and more coils wrapped around her, covering her from hips to head. It was trying to crush her like a snake, and if that tongue really tightened up, Jackie was dead. Trouble was, without a sword, there wasn't much Yasutora could do to cut her free. That tongue was solid muscle.

He squinted at the thing's masked mouth, at rows of blade-sharp teeth.

Unless he used the hollow against itself? Yeah, that might just work.

With a yell of his own, Yasutora sprinted towards the hollow's head, leaping at the last second to vault clear over its flailing arms and land on its neck. He shoved his shoulder up against its lower jaw, wrapped both arms around its muzzle, and started to forced the thing's mouth closed on its own tongue. It thrashed its head violently trying to shake him off, but Yasutora gritted his teeth and hung on. He had to get this to work. If he didn't, Jackie would die, and he refused to let that happen.

It was tough going. The hollow's flesh was springy and rubbery, and took a hell of a lot of cutting. But slowly, inexorably, Yasutora felt it starting to give. As teeth finally penetrated the thick muscle, the hollow gurgled and foul black blood sprayed from the wound, covering Yasutora from head to toe. The stuff sizzled when it hit the ground and for once Yasutora found himself grateful for the protection of his costume.

Pressing his cloth-covered face to the scaly skin, he kept up the pressure, feeling slow victory in every inch his arms tightened. Biceps screamed in protest, knees creaked, but he couldn't stop. The hollow still had Jackie and he had to keep her safe at all costs. It was what they did. What they had done since that first day in a trashed Rukongai bar, when they'd ended up fighting back to back against thugs who thought they'd found easy pickings.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Jackie cried that she was clear and Yasutora glimpsed her rolling to her feet, shoving free of the tongue that still tried to whip out and recapture her despite being nearly cut in half. Yasutora redoubled his efforts as the hollow continued to struggle, its tiny hands coming up to claw and snatch at any part of him it could reach. Yasutora kicked out at them, losing his footing in the process, and while he was scrambling to recover, he heard the welcome crack of a mask shattering. The hollow froze, body rigid, and the next moment, the whole thing disintegrated beneath him.

Yasutora hit the deck with a pained grunt. For a few seconds, he just knelt there, letting his sense of equilibrium return. He was covered from head to toe in a puke coloured mixture of hollow, sandy dust and his own blood. From the pain in his chest, he had at least a couple of cracked ribs, and the ringing in his ears probably wouldn't stop for hours. In short, he felt like he'd just gone ten rounds with Klitschko, but he was still alive and so was Jackie, and that was all that counted.

As Jackie's slim gloved hand came into his field of view, he blinked and cocked his head to look up at her. It was impossible to see her expression beneath the fighter's mask she wore, but her voice was even as she asked, "You okay?"

He nodded an answer, not really feeling it but taking her hand anyway and letting her pull him to his feet. Behind the barriers, the crowd were going mad with excitement and, as he limped from the arena, Yasutora raised a hand in the briefest acknowledgement he could get away with.

He didn't like the crowds. Iba-neesan called them fans and said the fighters had to play up to them, give them their money's worth. Yasutora knew better. He remembered bullies who preyed on the weak, and others who cheered on the sidelines, too grateful it wasn't them being punched in the face to dare lend a hand. It was one of the few personal things, apart from his name, that he did remember from his life in the living world.

The shinigami who flocked to the Pits were no different from the thugs and cowards he remembered. Some came for the show, for the blood and the fight. They were closest to true fans, he guessed. But others came to convince themselves they were safe behind their division walls with their uniforms and ranks, to prove that they had it better than the poor bastards who hadn't signed up with the Gotei.

But pitting the best non-shinigami fighters against each other wasn't enough to do that, nor were fights against small hollows. Not if the fighters won. So every time it had to be something bigger, faster, stronger, more dangerous.

So far he and Jackie were holding their own, but it couldn't last forever. Sooner or later they'd come up against something they couldn't beat, and then what?

Yasutora didn't want to be ripped to pieces for the amusement of screaming crowds, but he was enough of a realist to know how this was going to end. He'd seen it happen often enough to other fighters. And the night the hollows won, these so-called fans would be cheering just as hard as they did tonight, because all they were there for was the kill, and who died wasn't important, just so long as it wasn't them.


	2. Death Don't Have No Mercy

"What about Fugawa Tatsuya? I don't think he's one of mine," Kyōraku said, glaring at the list of possible Central 46 candidates in front of him. One blunt fingertip tapped a steady beat on the tabletop, while his other hand tunnelled deep into thick salt and pepper hair. Beside his elbow sat a steaming cup of tea.

"Isn't he your second cousin's boy?" replied Yoruichi, lifting her head slightly from Soifon's lap. She had her long legs tucked snugly under the kotatsu, and was nursing a bowl of sake against the front of her deep green and tawny kimono.

Last week, the sheer banality of it all had made Ichigo want to yell and throw things, because he sure as shit had better things to do even if no one else did. Like looking for Byakuya, or trying to work out ways to get Renji out of jail. Now, he was pretty much resigned to his fate, because invoking the Soul King's authority had come with a whole raft of responsibilities Ichigo hadn't even known existed.

Most importantly, the True First clanheads were the only ones with the ability to appoint new members to Central's chamber, but it took three of the five to make any appointments official. Currently, thanks to Byakuya's so-called treason, the Kuchiki didn't have a clanhead, and the old lady in charge of the Towa refused to come back into town again so soon after her visit for Ichigo's investiture. All which meant that Ichigo was stuck here, for the fifth night in a row, still with no end in sight, listening to Kyōraku and Yoruichi prattle endlessly about people Ichigo didn't know or care about.

"Ah…?" Soifon hummed hesitantly, her fingers pausing in Yoruichi's deep purple hair.

Yoruichi craned her neck, peering up at her lover and 2nd division lieutenant. "Well? What is it? You're the one with the list."

"I think Fugawa's main allegiance is to the Kuchiki, Yoruichi-sama," Soifon replied and it didn't escape Ichigo's notice that she hadn't needed to consult any notes for that bit of information. The woman was scarily well informed, probably better than her mistress, and if Ichigo ever was lucky enough to pick up a clue about Byakuya's whereabouts, both of them would be on him like hawks.

Yoruichi subsided with a humph. "Eh, maybe we should give him a place then. It's not like the they're going to get many." She raised sharp amber eyes towards Kyōraku. "And speaking of the Kuchiki, how're the compensation hearings going?"

Compensation hearings? Ichigo's ears pricked. This was the first he'd heard about it. He'd thought all of that was on hold until the new government had been formed.

Kyōraku let his papers slide to the table-top and rubbed his face with both hands, dragging his fingers down to curl into fists beneath his chin, which for once wasn't as clean-shaven as it might be. The guy must be more stressed than he looked. "Slowly, like everything else," he said, blinking tired looking eyes, "And they're not going to be as rich as they once were when it's over."

And wasn't that typical of the Kuchiki, throwing money at a problem until it went away. Anyone else would be paying in blood, like Ichigo's family had. At least Byakuya had grown a backbone by the end, even if it had backfired on him.

"No executions then?" Yoruichi asked, echoing Ichigo's thoughts. When Kyōraku shook his head, she continued, "I'm not surprised. What's the point when you can have money instead. The manpower's already gone, and killing off more of ourselves at this point is just going to make matters worse. And it's not like any of them were clanheads or heirs, so no one's claiming bloodprice. Unlike when Isshin-"

Kyōraku's hiss brought Yoruichi up short. Her gaze flicked to Ichigo, who closed his eyes and feigned sleep. It was close enough to the truth that they might just buy it, and he wanted to know what they had to say. No one ever spoke of his father's crimes or the aftermath within his hearing, so every detail was precious.

Not to mention the haunting similarities between Isshin's and Byakuya's crimes, and the slaughter of Kyōraku's family all those years ago.

Just what the hell had happened that night at Central? No way had Byakuya gone bankai on them of his own accord. Ichigo didn't believe that for a second. No more than he believed his father had slaughtered the Kuchiki. Aizen was behind it all, he was sure of it.

Forcing himself to breathe at a slow steady rate, and not to try snoring or any of those other little tricks that looked so fake, Ichigo willed Yoruichi to keep speaking. After a moment or two she said, "He didn't hear me, kid's flat out. We need to wrap this up. It's bad enough he's got to fill Byakuya's shoes at the 6th without making him sit through this farce as well."

"There are other options," Kyōraku said, "Now the 2nd is in Urahara's hands, you could take over-"

"No." Yoruichi's reply might have been quiet, but it was adamant. "Byakuya left his division to Ichigo. It's not my place to interfere with that."

"You have a better right than most. You were his betrothed."

"Was and still am, despite the best efforts of the rest of my dearly beloved clan," Yoruichi said, "But that's not going to change my mind." She paused and Ichigo heard the sound of rustling silk. "Anyway, why the sudden interest in replacing the kid? He seems to be doing okay so far."

"He is, surprisingly well under the circumstances, but there are still questions about his suitability for such a rank long term."

"The Quincy thing again?" Ichigo heard Yoruichi huff. "He's not about to revive the species singlehandedly if that's what's setting you off."

The rustle of papers and tap of china cup on lacquered tabletop. Ichigo forced himself not to open his eyes. Did Kyōraku really think that about him?

"Easy for you to say, my girl," Kyōraku said, "You were hardly more than a child during the last war and protected from most of it by your mother. You didn't see the horrors those creatures are capable of."

"I saw enough to know why you're worried, but he's one kid, Shunsui, and only half Quincy at that. There's no pure breeds left, not any more."

"And the sisters? It wouldn't take much to recreate-"

"Oh for-" Yoruichi's annoyance bled into her voice as she snapped, "If you're that desperate for an enemy, maybe you should try looking closer to home." More rustling silk and the crinkle and thud of papers being viciously sorted and stacked.

Kyōraku's reply came a moment later, long-suffering and tired. "Your own people investigated."

"And yet I'm still left asking why. Yeah, sure, everyone seems happy that he did it as revenge for Abarai being imprisoned, except that isn't the sort of thing Byakuya does. I know that, you know that. He's a lot of things, headstrong amongst them, but he's not stupid. And killing off Central 46 like that was stupid."

Ichigo couldn't agree more. It was a pity she hadn't given Renji the same benefit of the doubt over those trumped-up attempted murder charges. Maybe it was different when the accused was a noble, or her fiancee, because Renji was just as likely to try and kill Byakuya as Byakuya was to murder Central 46, but she hadn't said a word when Renji was sent down.

For three thousand years.

Shit.

Ichigo's brain stuttered to a halt over the length of the sentence like it always did. Three thousand years was too much time for him to comprehend, so he'd stuck it in a box, like he had his father's sentence, and thought of it as enough time to get them out again.

As a strategy, it let him function, but it didn't stop the guilt. Or the memories. Of Renji pleading his innocence, on his hand and knees, his back still bleeding from the whipping. And the blow that had silenced him.

"I hope you're not allowing that belief to undermine the search for him," Kyōraku asked, his voice yanking Ichigo out of the beginnings of a flashback.

A quiet snort came from Yoruichi, "I'm the head of onmitsukidō not a child."

"And is there any sign?"

Ichigo's breath caught. He'd known they were looking but everyone was keeping him out of the loop vis-a-vis findings. And maybe it was thinking about Renji, but suddenly Ichigo desperately wanted to know if there was any news.

Him and Byakuya might have had their ups and downs, but Ichigo still missed him. And Renji. During this past week of trying to sort things out at the 6th, Ichigo had turned to look for both of them so many times, only to find the space where they should be, achingly empty.

"Nothing," Yoruichi said, leaving Ichigo not knowing whether to be relieved or upset. "It's like he ceased to exist. For a while I thought we had something in the central chamber. Kurotsuchi's man picked up some strange readings that could have been some kind of forbidden time-space kidō, but it turned out to be nothing." A sigh. "Maybe he did destroy himself after he killed the others."

No. He wouldn't have done that. Not while Renji was still in jail.

"It's possible," Kyōraku replied. "What other explanation can there be for his resigning his clan and captaincy?"

"I dunno, maybe he was gonna try and break Abarai out of jail and do a runner with him, and something went wrong."

"Then it must have been an exceedingly large 'something', Yoruichi, to result in that amount of bloodshed. Even you have to concede that it was definitely Byakuya's zanpakutō which caused the deaths. And no one else could have wielded Senbonzakura in bankai."

That much was true, but the rest… Sometimes Ichigo wondered if he was fooling himself, but they really didn't know Byakuya like he did. He was out there somewhere, hurt or holed up, but he'd be back. He'd been prepared to kill Renji rather than let him stay in Shugo. So no way in five hells would he walk away without freeing him now.

Ichigo heard Yoruichi sigh. "I know. The facts all stack up; he had to have done it, but it just doesn't feel right. Like we're missing a vital clue or some obvious angle."

Like Aizen Sousuke, Ichigo thought, though there was no point in trying to argue that again. If Yoruichi hadn't questioned Renji being accused of attempted murder, she wasn't likely to believe Ichigo about Aizen, and Kyōraku had already made his feelings on the 1st's lieutenant clear. Not that Ichigo blamed the guy for it. Not really. To admit that Aizen might still be threat would mean everything Seireitei had done to try and defend against him had been pointless, and that would be one hell of a bitter pill to swallow.

No, it was going to be up to him to dig deeper and try to find out what happened. And when he did, maybe he'd be able to get Renji and Byakuya back where they belonged, beside Ichigo.

For a while there was only the sound of people moving and Ichigo guessed Kyōraku was getting ready to leave. About time too. It was getting close to midnight and Ichigo had a meeting at six tomorrow, followed by a day of playing whack-a-mole with the 6th's paperwork.

"You know, I'm not sure I actually care any more," Kyōraku said a couple of minutes later. His voice, coming from over near the door, sounded weary. "Maybe it's time I gave it all up and retired to the country."

"Or maybe you should go home and make love to your lovely ladies, and stop feeling sorry for yourself, old man," Yoruichi shot back.

Ichigo heard Kyōraku's rumble of laughter. "Perhaps you're right. Do you want me to escort Ichigo home?"

"Nah, you go, I'll see he gets back in one piece."

"In that case, I shall wish you good night, my dear."

Ichigo cracked one eye open slightly and caught a glimpse of white haori as Kyōraku swept out with Soifon in tow. As soon as the door shut behind him, Yoruichi said, "Okay, you can quit pretending, he's gone."

Ichigo stirred, squinting as he sat up. Yoruichi stood over him, glaring down with an irritated expression. "You knew?" he asked.

"Your heartbeat was way too fast for someone who was sleeping." She sighed and sank down onto her cushions, tucking her legs back under the kotatsu. "Though, for what it's worth I don't think Shunsui noticed, he was too busy worrying about your Quincy powers."

Ichigo stared after the departing captain, his mind churning with the implications of what he'd heard. The war stuff was interesting, as was Kyōraku's talk of retirement, but what stuck with Ichigo was Kyōraku's assertion that Ichigo shouldn't be in charge of the 6th because he was half Quincy.

Was that really how he felt? And would it be the same if Byakuya was still here?

And what the hell, anyway? Byakuya had never said that Ichigo being part Quincy would be problematic. If anything he'd been grooming Ichigo to make a captain's run almost from the beginning. Nor had Renji, and he'd seen what Ichigo could do first hand, just like Kyōraku had. Even lieutenant Ise had forgiven him.

Not her captain, apparently. In retrospect, Kyōraku's over-reaction that night at the 8th should have been a huge pointer for trouble further down the line.

Ichigo turned his attention back to Yoruichi and said, "He really hates the Quincy, doesn't he."

She shrugged. "He's got a lot to hate them for. After Aizen decimated his clan, all he had left was his friends. Then the Quincy killed a good number of them and left Ukitake crippled." She narrowed her eyes. "Don't be fooled by your uncle, Ichigo, most Quincy are as dangerous and unethical as Kurotsuchi."

At the mention of Ryūken, Ichigo froze, eyes widening. Yoruichi knew about him? About them? How was that even possible?

And if she did know, was there any way he could warn his uncle and Uryū before she alerted the rest of Seireitei?

The grin Yoruichi shot him as he swallowed nervously was bright and edged with danger. "How are he and your cousin doing, by the way? Life in third north suiting them okay?"

Ichigo flicked his eyes towards the door and possible escape before immediately giving up on the idea. He'd never make it. Yoruichi's shunpo was way faster than his own. Plus, she obviously knew where Ryūken and Uryū were. If she was going to kill them, she would have done it already.

"Stop looking so worried," Yoruichi huffed, pouring herself another cup of sake and offering the same to Ichigo. "I'm onmitsukidō, it's our job to catch people sneaking in and out of Seireitei. They only got past the guards because I knew they were coming."

Numbly, Ichigo held out his empty bowl and watched the clear liquid pour into it. He was going to regret this in the morning but right now his nerves needed steadying. When the sake reached the brim, he closed his eyes, raised the bowl and took a gulp, shivering as the heat of the alcohol tracked down into his belly, warming him through more thoroughly than even the brazier had.

And it still didn't come close to touching the chill that came with knowing onmitsukidō knew about his family.

When he opened his eyes again a moment later, Yoruichi's smile was kinder and a bit amused. "I'm not going to do anything," she said, confirming his suspicions that Ryūken and Uryū would be dead already if she'd wanted it. "Kurotsuchi's detainment of them was unauthorised. He should have let me know the moment he found Quincy in the living world, so they could be disposed of properly or imported as registered research subjects."

She took a sip of her drink and shrugged, "He didn't, and once they were here, the ground-rules changed. Strictly speaking there's no policy regarding Quincy in Soul Society itself. No kill on sight or anything. So as long as your uncle and cousin don't do anything stupid to alert anyone to their presence, they'll be safe."

Safe? In a place where the secret police referred to Quincy as 'registered research subjects'. Where people were locked up on stupid impossible charges without anything resembling a proper trial. And where if you had enough money you just bought your way out of trouble.

Ichigo knew Yoruichi meant well, and he was grateful to her for not arresting them when she could, but Ichigo's family were never going to be safe in Soul Society while that was still the attitude. None of them, including his sisters.

Putting his half-empty bowl back on the table, Ichigo pressed his hand to his mouth, faking a yawn that quickly turned real. "It's late," he said once he'd finished. "I need to go." Get out of here before he said something that'd get him into even more trouble.

Yoruichi watched him knowingly as he clambered to his feet. Ichigo ignored her, busying himself collecting up his papers and tucking them in the front of his shihakushō. He had to keep his cool on the off-chance she was setting him up, hoping he'd rabbit straight off to warn his family. In the morning, he'd get word to Karin that the 2nd was on to them and let her handle it. She could do subtle a hell of a lot better than Ichigo could.

He left the room to find Hanatarō curled up by the door, sleeping, and Koniwa deep in conversation with Soifon at the far end of the corridor, presumably about the best route back to the 6th. Soifon seemed to be doing most of the talking, while Koniwa tugged thoughtfully on the soul patch beneath his lower lip and nodded occasionally.

When he saw Ichigo, the third seat straightened to attention and hurried towards them. "Home, sir?" he asked, dipping a rigid bow. His long tail of dark hair slipped forward and, as he rose, he flicked it back over his shoulder.

Ichigo waved him off, not in the mood for formality. "Yeah, straight home I think. Unless there's any nasty surprises we've got to avoid?" As he spoke, he hunkered down and through a combination of prodding and cajoling managed to get Hanatarō up on his back.

"No, sir," Koniwa replied, radiating disapproval. Apparently nobles of Ichigo's rank weren't supposed to carry people around like pack animals, or so Hisana had told him when he'd mentioned Koniwa's strange attitude to her. Ichigo didn't care. Of all of them, the past few weeks had been hardest on Hanatarō since he had to go everywhere Ichigo went, so the least Ichigo could do was give the little guy a ride home so he could sleep.

"You may wish to avoid the 7th, Shiba-taichō," Soifon said as she joined them.

"Trouble?" Yoruichi queried, coming out into the corridor.

Soifon nodded a bow towards her. "Just rumours, my lady. Nothing concrete but it pays to be careful." Especially if you were a new captain with no bankai and few guards.

Ichigo took her warning at face value. "Thanks. They're off our route but we'll give them a wide berth anyway." He cast a miserable look back at Yoruichi. "Same time tomorrow?"

"And the day after that, until we can get the rest of these appointments finalised." She sighed. "How freaking difficult can it be to find six nobles bright enough to be Judges?"

Ichigo huffed a laugh and muttered, "Maybe that's where we're going wrong."

"Eh?" Yoruichi frowned up at him, brows a delicate curve above a slightly wrinkled nose.

"You know, trying to find nobles to do it," Ichigo shrugged.

Amber eyes widened in surprise. "Appoint commoners, you mean? Damn it, Shunsui would freak." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then continued, "Having said that, find me one suitable and I'll vote with you."

"Yoruichi-sama!" Soifon protested as Koniwa went rigid with shock beside Ichigo. He was minor nobility, Ichigo remembered, and defensive about it.

"Ah, relax," Yoruichi said, waving her off with a casual flick of her hand. "One or two representatives from the older common families might shake the fuddy-duddies up a bit. Put some fire in their bellies." She smirked wickedly at Ichigo. "Maybe we can start changing things from the inside after all, eh, Ichigo-kun?"

One thing living with two sisters had taught Ichigo was never to get between two females having a fight, and going by the way Soifon's glower was blackening, it was definitely time to leave. "I'm happy to take the advice of my senpai," he said diplomatically, nodding his good nights and setting off at a brisk pace down the corridor with Koniwa hard on his heels.

Yoruichi's rich laugh rolled after them. "Coward!" she called. "See you tomorrow night."

The trip home proved uneventful, helped no doubt by the squad of ninja pacing them the whole way. Yoruichi took her responsibilities seriously and apparently wanted Ichigo to know that she did. On one level, he appreciated it a lot. Until he got bankai, he was stupidly vulnerable away from division grounds. But on another, their presence was a constant reminder of Yoruichi's status as the head of the secret police and the threat she posed to his family.

How had she found out about them anyway? Could Urahara have told her? If so, if would explain why she knew about the escape, and not about Aizen and his role in whatever had happened to Byakuya. Looking at events that way made Yoruichi seem less omniscient, and more just well-connected, which was both a relief and a frustration for Ichigo. He needed to find out the truth, and so far no one, not even Yoruichi, seemed genuinely interested in searching for it.

Though the division was well bedded down for the night, the guards at the main entrance still took the time to check each face before letting them pass through the gate. Koniwa grumbled under his breath about rank and the stupidity of needing to identify one's own captain, but it was a long standing regulation that Ichigo didn't want interfered with, not even for himself and his third seat. He wasn't about to get paranoid but he was painfully aware that without bankai, it was only a matter of time before some hopeful did a run on the division, and at that point Ichigo was going to need all the help he could get, even if was only an alert gate guard.

After parting company with Koniwa, Ichigo headed for the central office building where a dim light shone from the front doors. Hashigami, probably, doing his paperwork at Hisana's old desk, the one Karin would use when she got back from Rukongai. Sure enough, when Ichigo opened the door, there the big man was, huddled into a chair several sizes too small for his massive frame.

As Ichigo approached, the fourth seat glanced up, rose surprisingly gracefully to his feet, and bowed deeply, his balding pate gleaming in the lamp light. "Good evening, Shiba-taichō. I'm happy to report that all is quiet with the division," he said, his rough voice hardly rising above a whisper. Whether the tone came by habit or design, Ichigo didn't know, but it suited a man who'd been in charge of the night shift for going on fifty years. "Also there is a visitor for you."

"For real? At this time of night?" Ichigo replied, grimacing as he tried to disentangle Hanatarō's clenched fists from the collar of his shihakushō. The kid was attached like a leech.

Hashigami raised an eyebrow at Ichigo's increasingly frantic contortions before coming round the desk to help. "It's a civilian, sir, by the name of Fūra. He says he has an important message for you."

Fūra, right. He'd been the one of Shin's group of refugees from the 10th who was related to the Iba family from the Pits. What the hell could he want at this time of night? "Okay, well, I guess I'd better see him before turning in."

"I'll have Fūra brought up, sir," Hashigami replied, bodily lifting Hanatarō from Ichigo's back and placing him swaying on his own two feet. "You have drool on your haori again."

"Thanks." Ichigo swiped at the wet mark on his shoulder. "Eh, it's not the first time and it probably won't be the last."

Renji used to drool in his sleep. Nearly every morning Ichigo had to fight his way free from a soggy snoring red-head, cursing all the way. Funny how much he'd hated it back then. Now, he'd give anything to do it again, even once. But he couldn't, not until he got Renji out of jail and that was going to take time and information.

Possibly information collected from people like Fūra, which was an excellent reason to make the time to see the guy.

The sound of hurried footsteps rattled on the staircase. Ichigo glanced up to see Koji descending at a fast trot, with Shin hard on his heels. Apart from exchanging his Kuchiki stamped uniform for one with the Shiba mon, the older man was the same as when he ran Byakuya's small private household. Now he ran Ichigo's, which was probably a huge comedown since the only staff he had to worry about was Shin.

Who, by contrast, had changed a lot since coming into Ichigo's service. Gone was the black shihakushō of a serving shinigami. In its place Shin now wore a loose coat and short hakama in shades of blue and his straggly mousy hair had been tamed up into a tight cue like the one Koji wore. If any of his old friends saw him now, Ichigo doubted they'd even recognise him.

"Good evening, my lord," Koji said, dipping into a deep bow when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Shin echoed it, though he stayed a respectful step or so behind his senior.

"Evening, Koji. Good timing, as always," Ichigo said, ignoring the formality. There was no point in even trying to get Koji to change his forms of address. He was a Kuchiki trained household servant and that held more sway than any argument Ichigo could ever put up. "Shin, can you point Hanatarō at his bed. And make sure he gets there this time. He was sleeping on my desk last night when I got there."

Shin grimaced as he came forward to put a guiding hand on Hanatarō's shoulder ready to lead him away. "Sorry, sir - I mean, m'lord. I thought he would be okay left at the door."

"Yeah, apparently not," Ichigo said, watching the pair slowly climb the stairs towards Byakuya's office - his own office now, he supposed. Though, despite having spent what felt like every waking, and sleeping, moment of the past week in it, Ichigo still had problems thinking about it as anything other than Byakuya's.

The midnight bell rang as they turned the corner at the top. Hashigami murmured, "Rounds," and left with a shallow bow after Ichigo dismissed him with a wave. The guy had duties, Ichigo wasn't about to get in the way.

"I'm very sorry for Shin's lapse, Shiba-sama," Koji said, once they were alone. "It won't happen again."

"It's okay," Ichigo said, returning his attention to his head of staff. Going by Koji's disapproving frown, Shin was going to end up with a reprimand later. And maybe Ichigo shouldn't have said anything, but he had asked Shin to see the kid to bed last night and when Ichigo said bed, he actually meant it. "Don't go too hard on him, yeah? He's new to this stuff."

Koji's mouth tightened. "Things like following orders, my lord?"

Ichigo huffed a laugh. The guy was Byakuya's man through and through - never let formality come between you and the truth "Yeah, something like that. Just try to remember you were a trainee once too."

The expression that skated across Koji's face suggested Ichigo was mistaken and that he had, in fact, been born a fully trained personal servant. But he dipped a bow and said, "You bed is ready, my lord, should you wish to retire."

"I wish. I wish it a lot, but I can't." Ichigo scrubbed a hand down his face, willing his brain to keep working through the tiredness. "Apparently I've got a visitor."

"At this time of night?" Koji gasped, before slapping a hand over his mouth and bowing. "I'm sorry, Shiba-sama, but it really is an appalling show of bad manners to arrive at such an hour, unless for an unavoidable emergency."

Ichigo thought back to the bustling nightlife around the Pits. "Not everyone works to the same clock as us, Koji. But I could use something to keep me awake." And counteract the sake he'd drunk earlier. "Fetch some tea, will you, and have it brought to the lieutenant's office." He'd have to use that one since Hanatarō was sleeping in the captain's, and unlike Ichigo, Hisana got to go home at night.

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The guard showed Fūra in a few minutes after the tea arrived. Caught sipping on his hot drink, Ichigo put down the bowl and tried not to look like he'd been about to drift off to sleep.

"Fūra," he said, nodding as the guy came to stand before him. He was looking bulkier than the last time Ichigo had seen him. Someone had shaved his hair close to his head, and peeping out from beneath his right sleeve were the edges of coloured ink. Fresh ink going by the pinkish inflammation.

Fūra dipped an awkward bow. "Neesan said she's sorry for sending me over so late, but she's got some information she thought you oughta hear as soon as possible."

Fūra's aunt, Iba-neesan. Not his sister, despite the name everyone called her. Ichigo had done his homework, so he knew who the Iba family were now.

After waiting in vain for a few moments for Fūra to pass on the message, Ichigo asked, "So, what's the information?"

"I dunno it, sir. But if ya come down to the Shed, Neesan'll tell ya."

"Now? Tonight?"

At Fūra's nod, Ichigo settled back in his chair to think. It was late, he was tired. Going alone to the Pits after midnight was probably dumb, and taking guards would only make him stand out more. It was just asking to get jumped. And there was always the chance that the message was designed to lure him out of division grounds and into a trap.

Not that Ichigo thought Iba-neesan would set him up like that. She might be the Seireitei equivalent of yakuza, but that didn't mean she was without honour. In fact, Ichigo thought she probably had more of that quality than quite a few of the serving shinigami he knew. And last time, her information had led to them rescuing Uryū from the 12th. Sure, it had also got Renji caught, whipped and imprisoned, but that part hadn't been Iba-neesan's fault, it had been Ichigo's. Her information had been good, Ichigo just hadn't been up to the task.

What if it was just as important this time?

What if it was about Byakuya. Or Renji.

He had to go. And even though leaving division grounds was a risk, it wasn't like he was that much safer inside. If someone decided they wanted the 6th right now, there was no one here who could stop them. Crap, how had Byakuya managed this?

Ichigo huffed a sigh. Having bankai probably helped. Without it, he was a sitting duck. In here, or out there.

But even ducks used camouflage.

Mostly everyone down the Pits looked like a civilian, so what if Ichigo went as one too? Maybe some kind of servant. He'd have to dump the haori, of course, but the hakama could stay if he found a different top, and something to cover his hair.

Decision made, Ichigo shoved away from the desk and, striding over to the open door, called, "Koji?" out into the corridor.

A door further down slid back and Koji appeared. "Yes, my lord?" he said, formality rolling off him as he spoke.

That would be a problem if Ichigo was trying to pass as a commoner. Ichigo frowned, reshuffling his plans as he trod down the corridor to meet Koji halfway. "I need to borrow some of your clothes. And tell Shin I want him."

Koji gaped at him. "My clothes, my lord?"

"Yes, yours. Or someone else's who doesn't look like a noble. Pants, tops, and…" What else did he need? Right, yeah. "And find me hat." When Koji still just stood there staring, Ichigo snapped, "Now! Get a move on!"

As Koji jumped to it, Ichigo stalked back to the office.

Fūra glanced up as he walked in. "You coming then?" he demanded with not a hint of deference for Ichigo's rank. But then Iba-neesan had been the same. The way she'd spoken to Hirako-taichō hadn't even come close to respectful.

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, giving Fūra another once over, using him as a template for his own disguise.

He was missing something obvious. Sandals, belt - ah, sword, that was it. Fūra had no zanpakutō, which made sense. Civilians were banned from carrying swords, so Ichigo was going to have to leave Zangetsu behind. But he wasn't going out totally unarmed. The Shiba tanto would tuck inside a civilian kosode as neatly as a shihakushō. He tugged it out of its usual place and laid it on the desk before removing his captain's haori.

"What happened to your zanpakutō after you left?" Ichigo asked, starting to loosen the ties on his kosode.

Fūra gave him a wary glance. "It's at home. Why?"

Ichigo never got a chance to answer. A knock came at the door and a heartbeat later Shin stuck his head around it. "Koji-san said you needed me, m'lord? And some clothes?" He held up arms full of multi-coloured cloth.

"That's great. Stick them here," Ichigo said, shifting aside a pile of papers and patting the desk.

Shin gave Fūra a quick look and slipped past him with his head down to put his load where Ichigo had indicated. Koji must have emptied his clothes chest, and maybe some other people's too. There was a mix of tops and bottoms in the pile, most in dark colours. Ichigo tugged free a bruise-purple kosode and slipped it on over his undershirt. It smelt strongly of cedar-wood and was loose around the shoulders, but the great advantage of old fashioned clothing was that size didn't really matter. "Anything in there I can stick on my head?" he asked, squinting down at the ties as he untangled them. "And a belt, though I guess I could leave this untucked."

Silence, then Shin said in a low voice, "You planning on going somewhere, sir?"

"Fuck me! You're never Shin?" Fūra blurted suddenly from behind them. Ichigo had been right. Shin's old acquaintances hadn't recognised him in his new servant's uniform.

Shin spun on Fūra, face twisted and reddening, as he spat, "So the fuck what if it is. You bastards left me here to die so you ain't got no right looking down on me fer taking what I could get ta stay alive."

Fūra took a nervous step backwards, hands held up in front of him. "Get a grip, ya idiot. I never said ya didn't. Man does what he has ta, everyone knows that. Fuck, I'm running errands fer me auntie like a snot-nosed kid so I ain't in a position to criticise."

That seemed to mollify Shin a bit. He quit bristling and returned to sorting through the pile of clothing on the desk, though his movements were jerky and self-conscious. Ichigo, who'd stopped what he was doing to keep an eye on the pair, went back to doing up his ties. "Hat, Shin," he said, deciding that ignoring the argument was wiser that calling either of them on it.

"You'd only need one of those if you're going in disguise, sir," Shin said, and his obstinacy, though well meant, was really starting to grate on Ichigo's nerves.

"That was a direct order," he said. "I know Koji's already mentioned that to you." And shit, when had he started sounding like Byakuya.

Eyes fixed on the bit of black cloth he had in his hand, Shin tightened his jaw and said, "I know, sir, but I gotta ask." He raised his head, eyes scared but defiant. "You are taking guards with you, ain't you? And Hanatarō, right? What about Sagara-fukutaichō? You should wake her up and tell her as well, or she'll be really pissed if anything happens. And I know who'll get the blame, sir."

Ichigo waited for the reproachful ramble to finish and then deliberately met Shin's gaze as seriously and calmly as possible. "This isn't division business, so there's no need to wake Hisana. Hanatarō is out on his feet, so I'll just have to be careful, and I'm taking you as a guard. So no more 'sir' or 'my lord', okay. It's just Ichigo for the rest of the night."

"Me?" Shin squeaked, fumbling the cloth he was holding.

No, it wasn't a cloth, it was a hat. "It's got to be you. You're the only one awake who won't stick out down the Pits." Or at least the only on Ichigo trusted.

As he spoke, Ichigo snatched the bag-shaped hat off Shin and jammed it on his head. It covered his hair just fine, which was great, but the rest of it stuck up in the air like the toe of sock. A couple of tugs made it flop down over one ear. Ichigo settled for that and grabbed up a bright blue happi with a nasty stain on one front panel. That completed an ensemble that would probably send Uryū screaming for the hills if he ever saw Ichigo wearing it. It didn't matter. So long as he didn't look like a Gotei captain or a clan-head any more, Ichigo didn't care.

He was just tucking the Shiba tanto into place inside his kosode, when a sudden horrible thought occurred to him. Frowning, he lifted his head and fixed Shin and Fūra with a hard look. "It's over ten miles from here to the Pits. Tell me the pair of you can shunpo."

They could, but not well. Of the two, Shin was actually better at it, which would make getting home easier. Even so, it took about half an hour to reach the Pits and by then it was almost one in the morning. Not that you could tell it was that late by looking. The place was still buzzing. Food-stalls, entertainment booths, dice and card games, all were going strong. The doors of the bars stood wide open as servers scurried up and down the long queues of punters waiting to get in and watch the fights.

As soon as dropped out of shunpo, Ichigo started feeling that odd prickle between his shoulder blades that said someone was watching him. It was annoying. He'd left division grounds deliberately trailing behind Shin and hiding his face, so whoever it was must have either been waiting outside the 6th, or picked him up here. So much for his attempts at a disguise.

Pushing their way through the crowds on Fūra's fast-moving heels, the feeling got so bad that Ichigo ended up pawing at the air where he'd normally find Zangetsu, his frustration levels rising. He wanted to know who it was, but with his reiatsu wrapped tight around him so he didn't attract the wrong sort of attention, Ichigo couldn't even sense which direction the watcher was in, let alone reach out to confirm their identity.

He had his suspicions though. Only one division's officer corps made the Pits their home away from home: the 5th. And Hisagi could climb walls like a spider so he'd make the perfect spy.

Instead of heading towards Ibe-neesan's izakaya like Ichigo expected, Fūra led them to one of the nearby warehouses which was accessed via a couple of steep flights of wooden steps to an upper level entrance. About halfway up, Ichigo had that same feeling of being watched, only this time it was immediately followed by a brash lick of reiatsu than ran from his ass, right up the length of his spine to the nape of his neck.

Stifling a yelp, Ichigo slammed his back to the wall, hand diving into the front of his kosode for his tanto. On either side of him, Fūra and Shin immediately swung into formation, closing off any potential threat from the flanks, and Ichigo couldn't help noticing that their hands went for their coats as well. Looked like he wasn't the only one carrying concealed weaponry tonight.

For a long second no one moved. Ichigo waited, poised for Hisagi to come leaping out of the shadows or for Hirako to appear with his smug grin and stupid innuendos. Nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen. Around them, nightlife in the Pits carried on; cheering crowds, the screams of hollows, people having fun.

Finally Shin hissed, "M'lord?" under his breath. He wanted to know what to do. So did Ichigo. They couldn't just stand here for the rest of the evening. Then again, moving meant exposing his back and just, no. That had been vile, like someone stealing a taste of him.

The door opening above them made Ichigo's mind up for him. The glow of warm yellow light promised safety, even if it was only an illusion. Snapping a quick, "Let's go," he set off up the steps.

Tetsuzaemon, Iba-neesan's son, was there to meet them, along with a couple of her 'boys' lurking behind him in the shadows. As he stepped across the threshold, Ichigo heard a yell from deeper inside the building, followed by a lot of people suddenly gasping and then an even louder cheer. Fūra had brought them to one of the fighting pits.

It was almost enough to make Ichigo turn around and walk away again, but Iba-neesan was in there somewhere, and Ichigo needed that information.

Behind him, at the door, Tetsuzaemon took one look at Shin and slammed his hand onto the jamb to block the way. Shin flinched, shoulders rising defensively as his gaze fixed on the floor.

Strange. Was this about Shin having been an informant or something else. "He's with me," Ichigo pointed out.

Calculating grey eyes turned on Ichigo. "Ya know what he is, right?"

Okay, no way was this happening. Ichigo waited a beat to give Tetsuzaemon a chance to back down, before channelling some of Byakuya's more obnoxious prick noble attitude. "What he is , is my personal servant and part of the Shiba household. What he was doesn't fucking matter anymore. Just like it doesn't matter that your cousin used to be a shinigami."

Since, strictly speaking, leaving the Gotei was impossible without dying, Ichigo's threat was very real. The right words in the right ears and Fūra would be toast. Tetsuzaemon's gaze shifted briefly to Fūra before flicking across to Shin and then returning to Ichigo. Silence reigned but Ichigo wasn't about to back down on this. Shin was under his protection now, and that meant something to Ichigo.

The floor creaked as Tetsuzaemon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You'll vouch for him?" he asked finally.

"I wouldn't have brought him with me if I didn't trust him," Ichigo shot back. It was true too. So what if Shin used to be a snitch. People were allowed to change, damn it.

Another beat and then, "Good enough," said Tetsuzaemon, lowering his arm and letting Shin slip past.

"This way." Fūra gestured for Ichigo to follow him. The corridor went up another level and then turned quickly into the kind of overhead walkway you found in factories or warehouses. Enclosed on the outside only by a metal cage, it had a bird's eye view down into the fighting pit below and, as they crossed, howls of glee and the thump and crash of fighting rose from beneath their feet.

Ichigo grit his teeth and kept walking, following Fūra on past the pit and into another corridor, this one lined with doors, some of which had suspiciously muscular looking people standing to attention outside them. At least two had shinigami, Ichigo noted as Fūra stopped outside a door with one man standing in front of it. The guard's gaze swept them all from head to toe, then with a nod he stepped aside. Fūra took a deep breath, shook out his shoulders and reached for the handle.

The door opened onto a room reminiscent of Iba-neesan's alcove in the bar but about three times the size. Hung with painted silks, the floor was half plain boards and half tatami mats with traditional floor cushions set round a long table. Beyond that, screen doors opened onto a balcony that Ichigo just knew overlooked the pit, and it was from there that Iba-neesan herself appeared.

"Orange-boy," she called when she spotted Ichigo. "Good to see you. Finally." Tonight her tunic was a dark cobalt blue and over it she wore a long padded coat in charcoal grey tied with an obi the colour of the midnight sky. It made the silver at her temple glow like a streak of moonlight. As Ichigo stepped forward to exchange greetings, she added, "I was starting to think this no-good kid got lost on the way." She waved a hand at Fūra, who grimaced and deepened his bow.

"It wasn't his fault. I was caught up on other business until midnight," Ichigo explained, shooting Fūra a quick grin as he beat a hasty retreat. "My apologies for making you wait."

"Oh, it's not a problem for me," Iba said. "I'd be here anyway. Got money riding on the next bout." Her gaze shifted to Shin, eyes narrowing in recognition. For a second Ichigo thought she was going to react the same way as her son, but instead she pointed a bony finger at the door and said, "You, take yourself over there and don't move until I say you can. And if I hear any of what gets discussed here tonight from anyone's mouth who ain't supposed to know about it, I'm gonna hunt you down and make you wish you died with Ōtoribashi. You hear me?"

"Yes, Iba-neesan," Shin replied hastily, dipping a deep bow before hurrying back to stand next to the door out into the main corridor.

Iba watched him go before shaking her head. "You don't want to go trusting that one," she said. "He'll turn on you soon as look at you."

Ichigo huffed a sigh and tugged off his borrowed hat. "I'm a captain of the Gotei 13 now, Iba-neesan. I can't afford to trust anyone. But if I think like that, I'll end up as insane as Ukitake, so I've got to start somewhere."

"Hah! Well said," she chortled. "Just hope your instincts are right this time. Hate to see you end up dead, boy. Now come, we have business. Join me in a drink." She indicated the blanket covered table flanked by braziers out on the balcony.

"Erm…" havered Ichigo, and not just because he'd already had several bowls of sake this evening. Last time they'd met, he hadn't understood the meaning behind sharing a drink with Iba-neesan and so Ichigo could have truthfully argued that he'd hadn't known what he was doing. This time he did, and the idea of having that sort of a connection with the head of a yakuza-type family was making him feel more than a bit uncomfortable.

Realising she wasn't being followed, Iba paused in the balcony doorway and lifted a enquiring brow back at Ichigo. "Problem?" she asked.

"I erm…" Ichigo gathered his nerve. The woman had a lot of presence, all of it scary. "Don't mind sharing a drink with you. But just a drink, if you know what I mean."

The brow raised even higher, "And here I thought you were the one just talking about trust," she said before continuing out onto the balcony, her voice rising to carry back to Ichigo. "You were invited for a drink, not to join the family, orange-boy. Unless I got the wrong end of that stick entirely, in which case I think I'm a century or two too old for ya."

Ichigo hurried after her, blushing furiously, only to find himself half-deafened by sound as he came through the doors. Taking a step back, it faded to a dull roar. The effect was kind of like walking into a club, except the doors were always open. Some kind of kidō? It had to be, Ichigo guessed.

Better prepared this time, he stepped out onto the balcony again, and went to join Iba at the table. As he suspected from the blanket, the table was a kotatsu, and the heat from beneath it combined with the braziers made the chill night almost cosy. It would have been a good place to do business, if it hadn't been for the view, but from here there was no avoiding it. They had the best seats in the house, no more than about thirty feet from the action.

Actually it was a bit like being at the theatre, except the crowd was on all four sides of this stage instead of just one, so maybe a small stadium was a better analogy, like the ones where they held boxing matches. Though people didn't often die during boxing matches and, when they did, it was by accident not part of the night's entertainment.

Reluctant to watch the fighters, Ichigo leaned sideways and peered upward, trying to see how high the roof was. Nothing but vaulted darkness seemed to lie above the kidō floodlights, and given the cold of the night outside the circle of warmth on their balcony, Ichigo was starting to wonder if the venue was open air. The crowd, jammed in up the steep steps lining the sides of the warehouse, probably wouldn't notice if it started snowing. They were too busy howling for someone called 'The Kid.'

Flashes of movement caught Ichigo's eye and he finally turned his attention to the pit itself. It wasn't big, no more than half a soccer pitch of dirty yellow sand, though the current bout probably didn't need all that much space since the fighters were both human.

One, tall and blond and dressed in scarlet outfit that included a half mask across his face, was armed with a tekkan, a long metal truncheon. But it was the other fighter, a little guy in a boxy green jacket and black pants, who looked like he was winning, and he was doing it with only his fists. Each punch he threw was sharp and accurate, making solid contact with ribs and torso, and going by the laboured way the blond was moving, every one was counting.

The blond was on a hiding to nothing. To swing his weapon properly, he needed space and he wasn't being allowed any of it. The few times he did manage to get away, the little guy ducked and wove like a boxer, getting back in under his guard and opening up the barrage on his ribs again. There was no doubt about it, the guy in green was an amazing fighter. And popular too going by the howls of delight from the crowd.

"Drink?"

Ichigo jerked out of his focus on the fight to find Iba-neesan holding out a full bowl of sake. He took it with murmured thanks and immediately cupped his hands around the warm ceramic, bringing the drink to his face and inhaling the steam. It was cheap compared to the stuff he'd been drinking earlier, but it would warm him up.

Another roar went up from the crowd. The blond was disarmed and down, green coat pinning him, still throwing punches. Ichigo shuddered and looked away.

Iba smirked as she sipped her drink. "You're squeamish for a shinigami."

Was he? Ichigo shot another look at the ring. It wasn't like he was a stranger to people beating the crap out of each other, and he'd been in both positions in the past; flat on his back with fists flying at his face, and straddling some jerk, stopping his stupid flapping mouth. Boxing, sumo, MMA all had crowds that bayed for blood, and Ichigo was happy enough to watch them. So what was it about this set-up that made it different?

"Maybe," he conceded, not wanting to argue a point that he didn't understand himself.

Iba gave him a considering look, intelligent grey eyes narrowing a little. After a second she said, "That's Hirako's boy," and pointed at the kid in green. "Mine're up next."

And that was it. The answer he'd been looking for. Ichigo put down his bowl. "You own them," he said. "They're slaves."

Iba inclined her head. "You're a captain, you have a division."

Touche. Still there were important differences. "You don't have to make them fight."

Iba put down her own bowl and sighed heavily. "Let me tell you something. I'm a business woman. The money my fighters make out there," she jerked her head at the ring, "keeps a lot of people fed and clothed. It keeps bribes paid and shinigami off our backs. We're not like you, we haven't got a fancy name and history keeping us safe. The only power we've got is what we take for ourselves, and we'll do whatever we have to do to protect it."

Fine, that made sense. "But you've got no right making others do it for you." Like Ichigo'd had no right making Renji go with him into the 12th. But he'd done it anyway. Blackmailed him into it. And Renji had been the one who'd ended up paying the price.

"Hm, what d'ya think happens to them if they don't?" Iba asked.

"Don't fight?" Ichigo frowned down at his drink, his thoughts still partly on Renji. There was only one answer really. "You kill them?"

Iba grunted quietly. "They do die, that's true, but it's not me who kills them. By the time I get 'em, they've already made their choice." She paused, eyes distant, before fixing Ichigo with a hard look. "You ever heard of the proving grounds, orange-boy?"

"No." It didn't sound familiar.

That earned him a nod. "Didn't think you would have. It's not the sort of thing polite folks talk about. Well, I'm not about to educate you. Not my job." Iba swigged back her sake and slammed the bowl onto the table. "Let's get to business." She lifted the dripping jug from its warm bath and topped both their drinks. "Fighting's not the only thing happening around here. Whatever people want doing, we try and oblige, so long as the price's right." Sharp grey eyes lifted to Ichigo's. "You understand me?"

Illegal things, she meant. Ichigo wasn't quite dumb enough to say that out loud, so he nodded silently.

"Few days ago one of my boys picked up a contract. On Abarai."

"On Renji!" Ichigo blurted. When she said contract, he thought it was going to be on him. Or maybe his sisters. "But he's in jail."

A quiet snort met his words. "Never been a reason not to kill someone before."

Ichigo's stomach clenched. She'd called him down here to tell him what, that… "Renji's dead?"

Iba levelled a frustrated look at him. "Kid, I have no idea what he is, or where, and that's the problem. Abarai was supposed to be in Shugo. It should have been a quick in and out, except my man got in there and no Abarai."

"What?" That was impossible.

"Exactly." Iba shook her head. "I took the fee in good faith. Now the job's a bust and that looks bad. Word of that gets out, people start taking their business elsewhere. So I made enquiries, found out who the contractor was, and well, that's why I called you."

Ichigo tried to understand what he was hearing. As yakuza, Iba didn't care about murder, or that the target had been Ichigo's lover, she just wanted to return the fee so the family didn't look bad. It was logical, in a surreal Soul Society sort of a way.

But she wasn't done yet. Reaching under the table, Iba-neesan pulled out a small piece of folded paper and laid it on the table between them. "I've held-back one tenth of the money. For expenses."

Hang on, that sounded like she wanted to return the fee to him. "But I didn't-" Ichigo began, before clamping his mouth shut as a sudden thought occurred to him. No, he hadn't taken out the contract, but he was pretty damned sure who had, because it was exactly the sort of thing he would have done. Byakuya. That fucking asshole! Jaw tight, he snarled, "Kuchiki?"

Iba dipped her chin. "A personal cash payment. Not connected to any clan at all."

Which was why she was giving it to him and not returning it to the family.

"How much?" Ichigo asked, almost scared to hear the answer.

Instead of speaking, Iba pushed the paper towards him. Hesitantly, Ichigo reached for it, only taking it when Iba nodded. The paper was good quality and folded into a complex twist. Carefully, Ichigo unwound it. It was a currency note, what passed for paper money in Seireitei. And it was made out for just under three million kan. Fuck.

Any doubt in Ichigo's mind that it had been Byakuya behind the contract fled. It had to be him because no one else in Seireitei had that sort of money to throw away on killing one shinigami. Gut churning and pulse thundering in his ears, Ichigo pushed to his feet and strode to the edge of the balcony, staring sightlessly down into the arena below.

He shouldn't be shocked. This was Byakuya and he'd made his position absolutely clear; Renji was better off dead than in Shugo. So it was totally logical that he'd set something like this up before he left. A deadman's switch. A hit that was scheduled to go ahead unless Byakuya personally called it off, prepared in case whatever Byakuya had planned for Aizen went wrong.

Except Renji wasn't in Shugo.

Tucking the note beside the Shiba tanto inside his kosode, Ichigo struggled to get his head around that bit of Iba-neesan's news. Renji was supposed to be in jail, even Yoruichi thought he was there. He wasn't supposed to be gone. Vanished without trace.

Unless… Had that been Byakuya's plan all along? To get Renji out and then kill Central 46 to cover it up?

And then what? Run off together? Where to? Nowhere in Seireitei would be safe for them, and even Rukongai would be dodgy. And they'd be on the run for the rest of their lives. That didn't sound like a Byakuya sort of plan. Hell, it even sounded stupid to Ichigo and he was crap at strategy. So, what then?

It had to be something to do with Aizen. Byakuya had said as much before he'd knocked Ichigo out and taken off on his own, and the whole stupid fucked up mess stank of the 1st's lieutenant. Had he somehow fooled everyone into thinking Renji was in jail and then used him to blackmail Byakuya into killing Central 46?

Ichigo ground his knuckles into his eyes and sighed heavily. No, that didn't work. No way would Byakuya cut down Central 46, even to save Renji's life. He was still missing something. Some vital clue that made everything else make sense.

With a buzz of reishi, a clear barrier suddenly shimmered into existence less than a foot from Ichigo's nose. He took a surprised step back, vaguely registering two figures striding out onto the sands and the crowd letting loose a howl of excitement. Sometime while he and Iba had been talking, the last fight must have finished. But why a barrier? There hadn't been one for the previous bout.

Ichigo's question got answered as part of the ground below the balcony dropped away and a hollow slithered out. As such things went, it was neither big nor impressive. In fact, it looked kind of like a large grey earthworm, except for its head which was more hammer head shark, and it was only about twice the height of a normal human. A few months ago, facing it in the field, Ichigo would have been tempted to write it off as an easy kill, but he'd been fighting these things long enough now not to be taken in by appearances. He just hoped Iba-neesan's fighters had too.

They'd done the sensible thing and scattered the second the hollow emerged from the pit. Now, whichever fighter the thing attacked, it would leave itself open to a counterattack from behind. The crowd seemed to approve. In the stands, a chant started up, "Fu-ta-go, fu-ta-go," accompanied by stamping feet that made the whole building shudder.

Shielding his eyes from the lights, Ichigo took a better look at the fighter closest to him. It was a woman, tall and elegant, dressed in a black form-hugging outfit with chunky solid looking boots. She could be the same person he'd seen in Iba-neesan's izakaya the last time he'd been in the Pits, but since her face was covered by a mask, Ichigo couldn't be sure. She was also completely unarmed. Against a hollow.

Ichigo shifted restlessly, hands sliding along the balcony rail. This was not what he'd come to see. In fact, now he'd got the information he needed, he didn't even know why he was still here. He'd done the polite thing and shared a drink, now he wanted to be gone, away from all these distractions, working out where Renji might be, since he wasn't in jail.

"Something wrong?" Iba-neesan asked.

Ichigo glanced down at her. She'd left the table and come to stand beside him. Hands tucked into her sleeves, she watched approvingly as the combatants took a moment to eye each other up.

"They don't have zanpakutō, and that's a hollow." Even as he spoke, Ichigo felt dumb for pointing out the obvious. Of course they didn't have zanpakutō, they were civilians. Fūra had said earlier that his was at home and despite Iba-neesan's considerable spiritual pressure, she didn't have one either. So why would her fighters?

But still, pitting unarmed civilians against hollows seemed pointless. They'd be torn apart. And Ichigo wanted to leave before it started.

Iba snorted quietly. "Typical shinigami arrogance. Don't think they can deal with it, eh? Just wait and see, orange-boy. We're not so useless as you lot think."

While they were talking, the hollow made its move. Silently, and totally without warning, it lowered its head and charged, straight across the arena at the second fighter. The woman sprinted after it, reaching impossible speeds for a non-shinigami. To howls of glee from the crowd, the second fighter dodged the hollow at the last second, and then the woman hit it from behind, using its own momentum to slam it headfirst into the barrier.

The cheer that move brought was even louder than the first. The air throbbed with the sound of voices as the hollow reeled away, shaking its head and wailing. Through the dust, Ichigo finally caught a better look at the other fighter as he followed up on the advantage. He was a big guy, dressed in the same kind of mask and black bodysuit as his partner, who at this point was ahead of him by several steps. As the guy lagged behind, the woman leapt, vaulting straight over the hollow's head and turning in midair, kicking out with both feet. The boots caught the hollow on the side of the head, driving it around to line up perfectly, and that's when the other fighter hit.

As the bone-rattling uppercut smashed into the bottom of the hollow's mask, Ichigo's fingers tightened on the balcony rail. He knew that combo. He'd been a part of it. The set up kick had been his job, getting it perfectly timed so that Chad's punch would knock some asshole bully out cold. And okay it could be coincidence, but looking at that stance, the way that punch had landed, Ichigo knew he was right. The second fighter had to be Chad.

"You know him." It wasn't a question, so Ichigo didn't bother rounding up an answer. Though he spared a moment to wonder if maybe Iba-neesan had known about it before arranging the meeting here tonight. Not that it mattered. "My souji, my Twins," Iba-neesan continued, "Yasutora and Jackie." She glanced up at Ichigo. "You should be proud. They're the best fighters I've ever seen in the pits."


	3. Torn Open Heart

Unable to do anything else, Ichigo stood listening to Iba-neesan, and drank in the sight of his best friend. Chad had grown, though how the fuck that was possible Ichigo didn't even know. It wasn't like he'd been short on inches before. He'd filled out too, which Ichigo guessed made sense if he'd been doing this kind of thing for the past few years.

Shit.

Ichigo's gut twisted in shame and self-disgust. Yet another member of his family who'd been fighting for their lives while he lived the high life. And in some ways, this one was worse. He hadn't even suspected that Ryūken and Uryū were in Soul Society. Chad, he'd known was here and he'd stopped looking.

One hand drifted briefly to his neck and the coin that still hung there, safe on its chain. He'd asked Renji - gods, had it really only been two weeks ago? - how to go about looking for Chad, but before he'd had a chance to even try, all hell had let loose and since then Ichigo hadn't spared even a moment's thought for his oldest friend.

The guy who'd saved Ichigo's life that day in a back alley. Who'd let himself get beaten with bricks so that Ichigo would be spared. And this was all the thanks he got.

The wood beneath Ichigo's fingers groaned in protest. He forced himself to relax as the fight continued down below. The hollow was on the back foot, Chad and Jackie knocking it all over the arena. Again and again, they double teamed it into the ground, and the longer the fight went on, the more Ichigo was starting to suspect there was something seriously wrong with it. Something that wasn't a result of being beaten here this evening.

Mostly that didn't seem to be a bad thing, since it mostly seemed to be making the hollow reel about like a drunk on a Friday night, but worryingly, despite the odd way it was behaving and the number of times it was getting hit, the thing wasn't taking any damage.

Yet again Chad landed several punches right into the hollow's mask and Ichigo could tell from the way Jackie shook her head and gestured that the blow should have been enough to bring it down. Yet the mask wasn't even cracked. And if they couldn't break the mask, the fight was unwinnable for them.

When another combo, this one adding a vicious leg drop from Jackie on top of Chad's uppercut, still didn't make an impression, Ichigo couldn't keep quiet any longer. "They've been set up," he said.

Beside him, Iba-neesan shifted slightly on the spot. "Was just thinking the same thing myself," she said. "That hollow's not the one I ordered for tonight. For starters, it's too small and too slow."

"So why didn't you say anything?" Ichigo asked, not even trying to keep his annoyance to himself. These were her people, damn it, as much as the black-clad goons. She should be watching out for them.

Iba shrugged. "It could have been a warm-up, maybe a secondary to keep everyone on their toes. The crowd bets more when a fight looks like it could go either way." And right now the crowd seemed to be treating the bout like a comedy act. No doubt Iba-neesan would have preferred it if the hollow was trying to tear Chad's legs off.

Shoving that information aside to be dealt with _never_, unless he fancied going to war with Iba-neesan, Ichigo leaned closer to the barrier to get a better look at the hollow, see if he could work out what was going on.

It had collapsed over the far side of the arena and lay there twitching like it was having seizures. Chad stood over it, one foot on the hollow's long body as he watched Jackie, who'd retreated some distance away and was hunkered down doing… something. Was that a kidō she was working on?

Ichigo leaned further, a flash of red catching his attention. But it wasn't coming from Jackie, it was coming from the hollow. A flicker building to a rapid swelling glow in its right eye, that looked almost like -

"Cero!" Ichigo yelled, diving on top of Iba-neesan as a blast of energy sliced through where they'd been standing, obliterating the reishi barrier, most of the balcony and the room beyond. Wood exploded into splinters, timbers creaked, fire licked and took hold. The floodlights flickered and then failed, plunging the warehouse into pitch darkness. Around the arena, cheers turned to screams that escalated to flat out panic between one breath and the next.

Ichigo, ears ringing from the explosion, pushed to his feet and flung himself down into the darkened arena. Behind him, Iba-neesan was yelling something about the barrier to someone called Hachigen. Ichigo didn't care; he had to find Chad. He'd been right on top of that cero. And what the fuck was a hollow doing firing one of those anyway? Ordinary hollows couldn't fire cero, only menos class could, and that sure as fuck wasn't a gillian.

Which meant… shit, it had to be adjucha, and that mean they were in real trouble.

A single step of shunpo took Ichigo to where he thought he'd seen Chad last. And there on the ground, just visible in the dim light, was an unmoving shape with Jackie crouching over it, the hollow looming over them both, shaking its head, its odd wailing cry drowning out the screams of the fleeing crowd. What the hell was wrong with the thing?

It didn't matter. Ichigo stuck himself between it, and Jackie and Chad, and snapped over his shoulder at Jackie, "I got this. Get him the fuck out of here."

Jackie blinked at him stupidly, eyes sweeping him head to toe and okay, yeah he probably didn't look much like a Gotei captain right now, but that didn't change the fact that he was. "Fucking move!" Ichigo yelled, turning back to the hollow and starting to charge up a shakkahō .

He'd got as far as the second line of the incantation when a blast of energy like a badly put together shō shot past him, smacking the hollow in the side of the mask and sending it reeling several feet away.

"You take him," Jackie said, stepping up beside him, fists clenched. "I'll keep it distracted."

Ichigo bit back a curse aimed at every stupid idiot in the world who couldn't follow orders and shot back, "Shiba Ichigo, 6th division captain, and I'm ordering you to take Chad and fucking move before this thing charges up another fucking cero!"

Her eyes widened slightly at the introduction before narrowing again. Her stance tightened up, pure defence. "If I could move Yasutora, I would have by now," she ground out. "I can't. He's too heavy for me. If you're a captain, you shouldn't have that problem."

Ichigo flicked a glance between Chad - and it was definitely him, Jackie had taken his mask off as well as her own - and Jackie, who wasn't that much smaller than himself, but yeah, if Chad was a dead weight - and he wasn't thinking that word, ever - then lifting him was gonna be impossible for her.

Either way, he didn't get a chance to argue. Jackie launched herself at the hollow and this time Ichigo could see the way she used reiatsu to boost her take-off and how it surrounded her feet and legs as she slammed her boots into the hollow's face.

Not waiting to see how effective the blow was, Ichigo lunged for Chad and dragged him up into his arms, ignoring the warm spill of blood against his chest and the memories it brought back - Renji and the butchered stink of him after the whipping. But still Ichigo found it hard to leave Jackie alone against the hollow. She was unarmed and her kidō was worse than his.

Suddenly, Iba-neesan's distinctive whistle rang out around the arena, and the next second, a glowing orange barrier shimmered into place around the edge of the sand, trapping Ichigo, Chad and Jackie inside with the hollow. Ichigo cursed, thinking for a moment that they'd been abandoned. But along with the barrier came kidō lights, snapping on one after another, and then several figures brandishing weapons dropped to the sands from the catwalk above, Tetsuzaemon and Fūra amongst them.

Back-up. Which meant Jackie wasn't fighting alone anymore. It was enough, they could cope for a while.

Deliberately, Ichigo turned his back on the fight, and shunpo'd for the relative safety of the far edge of the arena, where he lowered Chad slowly to the ground and got his first decent look at the damage. The cero had caught Chad in the right side of his abdomen. From armpit to hip was a burned and blackened mess, his lower ribs were stove in, skin torn open, blood everywhere. If he was human, he'd have been long dead.

Pulse thundering in his ears, Ichigo ripped off his coat and pressed it against the deepest part of the injury, trying to stop the too fast gush of blood pulsing from Chad's insides. Ichigo might not be a medic but even he could tell that it was bad. Potentially fatal, bad. And he couldn't lose Chad, not now. Not when he'd just found him again.

"Come on, you bastard," he murmured, eyes glued to that familiar face that looked too pale, too still. "Don't you go giving up on me now. You're no quitter."

Chad's body jerked as a vicious cough ripped through him leaving lips and tongue crimson in its wake. Fuck, that was so not good.

Panic blurring his vision, Ichigo looked desperately around for someone who might be able to help. The only person not actively fighting the hollow was a massive fat guy with pink hair standing about thirty feet away beneath the remains of the ruined balcony.

"Hey!" Ichigo yelled, lifting one bloodied hand to wave. "Hey!" The big man turned slowly towards them, a frown moving across his face at the speed of molasses. "I need help," Ichigo shouted louder, willing his voice to carry over the sound of the fight "He's dying!" Whether the guy could help or not, Ichigo didn't know, but he was out of options. There was nothing he could do for Chad himself.

Something tugged at the front of his shirt with surprising strength. Ichigo looked down into pain-filled dark eyes. "Ja-ki?" Chad gasped, another wet cough getting forced from lungs struggling to suck enough air back in.

Something simultaneously unravelled and twisted up tighter in Ichigo's gut. "Oh, thank fuck, you're conscious." But so much pain, so much blood. He forced himself to sound calm. "She's fine. Fighting. Like a taller more kicky version of Tatsuki."

"Tatsu-" As Chad's lips formed the name, a puzzled frown creased his brow, before his face went slack again. Ichigo clutched Chad's too cool fingers between his own and started praying to any god or spirit who might have the decency to listen.

"Yasutora-kun?" someone said a moment or two later. Ichigo glanced up to find that the big pink guy had arrived. He knelt beside them and eased Ichigo's coat away from the hole in Chad's gut. Shock immediately replaced confusion on the guy's face. "Oh my goodness, that is a nasty wound."

"You don't say," Ichigo snapped, fear now stopping him from sounding anything but furious.

The guy replaced the coat and turned sad eyes on Ichigo. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"Then find someone who can!" He had no time for anyone who was just gonna stand there.

"You don't understand, young sir," the guy protested, "I'm Ushōda Hachigen, the healer for the people here, amongst other things, but I don't think anyone would be able to heal an injury like that on someone with such low spiritual energy."

Even Unohana had needed Yamada's help to heal Renji when his reiryoku had been drained. "Can I… I dunno, give him some of mine?" Ichigo demanded, even as he knew what the answer would be.

"That really isn't possible. Your reiatsu-"

"Would do more harm than good, right, yeah. Heard that before." Ichigo turned his attention to the barrier, ignoring the growing wetness across his legs. He could break it down, get Chad to the 4th.

But what would be the point? Chad was a civilian. No way would Unohana-taichō treat him even if Ichigo got him there, and it wasn't like he could threaten her. She could beat him with one arm tied behind her back.

But there had to be something. He couldn't just… Chad couldn't just die! It wasn't fair!

"I'm sorry. He's your friend."

Ichigo tried to focus on the guy, Hachigen, realised his eyes were full of tears and lifted his shoulder to rub them away. It didn't help. Nor did sniffing. Eventually he just nodded and kept hanging on to Chad. It was a damn good job there was no one here but them, because Renji would give him such a hard time for this.

"I can make him more comfortable, ease his pain."

Had they really reached that point?

Another nod and, through the haze, Ichigo watched Hachigen remove the blood sodden coat again. Then a glowing green hand came to rest above the wound. Chad twitched in Ichigo's arms. He hadn't even noticed he'd dragged Chad into his lap, but there he was, a heavy weight pinning Ichigo's legs to the sands and Ichigo tried to memorise every moment of it, every rise and fall of Chad's chest, every slow thump of his heart.

After a few seconds, the glow faded and Hachigen sat back with a grunt. That was when Ichigo realised he only had one arm. The other, his right, his sword arm, had been cut off just above the elbow, the standard punishment in the Gotei for those dismissed from their divisions. The same thing had been done to Rikichi before he was beaten and thrown out of the 10th. Did that mean Hachigen was an ex-shinigami too? It would explain the kidō.

A sudden deep breath shuddered through Chad's body. Ichigo's focus immediately snapped to him. Dark eyes fluttered open and, brushing damp bangs from Chad's face, Ichigo grinned down at the man who'd been as close to him as any brother. "Hey," he said. "How're you doing?"

A frown creased Chad's brow. "Who-" he said weakly, before coughing. No blood this time, though the breath he heaved in rattled in his chest. "-'re you?" he finished, once he had the air for it.

Being stabbed might have hurt less. "Come on, man, you know me. Ichigo. Your-" best friend, brother, fellow warrior. "We go back years. Junior High in Karakura. You and me. Chad and Ichigo." He had to remember, otherwise Ichigo was the only one who did and that wasn't possible. There was too much between them.

"Yas'tora." Another pained breath.

Ichigo's hand tightened on Chad's, willing remembrance back into him. "That's right, Sado Yasutora, but I always called you Chad. It was like, my nickname for you. From that first time, remember? In the alley? Damn it, you saved my ass that day. Those guys would've killed me for sure and there you were, standing between us and you just let them whale on you. Scared the shit outta them it did and that's what gave me a chance. We double teamed 'em. Our first time fighting together and it was like we'd been doing it forever."

As he spoke, Ichigo searched vainly for some indication that Chad had a clue what Ichigo was talking about. Nothing showed. Not even a hint. He didn't even know why it was so important. Chad was dying. Why did it matter if he remembered Ichigo or not?

"Later on, I repaid the favour and we made a deal. I'd fight for you and you'd fight for me. Us against the rest of the world, for whatever was important to us. Those bastards took your coin." Shit, of course! If there was anything that could jog Chad's memory, it'd be his grandfather's coin.

Ripping open the front of his shirt, Ichigo yanked the chain over his head. "They took this. You told me your Abuelo gave it to you." He held it out and for the first time, a scrap of recognition flickered across Chad's face. His fingers twitched and Ichigo lifted Chad's hand and placed the tiny gold coin in the centre of his palm.

The effect was instant. Chad's fingers snapped shut around it and he began to seize. His head slammed back into Ichigo's chest, his lips drew back, his eyes jerked beneath fluttering lids. Then he began to convulse.

Ichigo hung on as best he could, but it was a losing battle; Chad was too big and too strong. He thrashed his way free of Ichigo's grasp and when Hachigen scrambled to help, he got punched in the face when Chad whole body suddenly arched up into a bow of contorting muscle.

No way would whatever healing Hachigen had managed hold up under this sort of treatment. Ichigo was half a breath away from punching Chad out to save his life when a blast of reiatsu shot through Chad's body, flattening Ichigo completely and tumbling Hachigen back several feet.

"What the fuck!" Ichigo protested, levering himself up on his elbows. Whatever it was seemed to have been a release of some sort, because Chad had stopped fitting and was lying face down in the sand. Unless-

"Shit!" Ichigo scrambled for him, rolling him onto his back and pressing his ear to his regular thump thump of a strong heartbeat welcomed him, and Ichigo felt something inside himself relax. Not dead.

A soft groan and Chad shifted, lifting his head. His eyes opened and he squinted down at Ichigo. "Ichigo?" he said, frown deepening as they stared at each other.

Ichigo still had his head on Chad's chest, which actually, now he thought about it, was a bit on the embarrassing side. He jerked upright, scrubbing a hand through his hair, only to realise that his glove was sodden with gore, and he'd probably just given himself red highlights. Which reminded him, "Shit!" Chad's injury!

He lunged back for Chad's chest, scrabbling aside blood-soaked cloth, and found - a scar. Pink and fresh and new and stretching the whole length of Chad's side from his armpit to his hip. In the centre, where the cero had ripped away chunks of flesh, the skin rippled and dipped, reminding Ichigo of Renji's back before Unohana had been forced to stop healing him.

"Ichigo?"

"Yeah?" Ichigo answered absently, placing a palm gently on the new skin, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. It looked tender and vulnerable, but it was whole, and that was heaping tons better than exposed guts and rib ends. Whatever technique Hachigen had used, it was a fucking miracle.

"I love you, man, but not like that."

"Eh?" Ichigo jerked his hand away, gaze shooting to Chad's face, which was quirked into a half smile, eyes gentle and amused. Bastard was teasing him. Hang on! Bastard was teasing him! "You remember?"

The half-smile broadened into a complete one and Chad nodded.

"Everything?"

Another nod, this one accompanied by a rumbling, "Ah." Effusive confirmation from his normally silent friend.

The last worry untangled in Ichigo's gut. Chad still looked pale, but he was going to be okay. He was going to live. "Oh, thank crap for that," Ichigo blurted, then quickly covered his too obvious relief with a stroppy, "Explaining everything would've been way too complicated."

He would've said more, but for the screamed warning that rang out round the arena. "Cero!"

Ichigo spun to see a scarlet blast of energy heading straight for them, blossoming as it came. And it didn't take a genius to guess it was way stronger than the last one. He just had time to reflect how fucking ironic it was that they were all going to die when they'd just got Chad fixed, and that even if he had his gloves off, there was no way he could absorb that much reiatsu, before the cero hit.

But somehow, miraculously, not him.

At the very last second, something slammed into place between him and certain death. Ichigo tumbled backwards, right on top of Chad, as energy boiled past him, full of heat and fury, to evaporate against the arena barrier.

In the aftermath, none of them moved, all staring at the place where the short-lived barrier Hachigen had conjured from nowhere had been. You could see the line; the ground went from blackened scorched mess to blood-soaked sand about eighteen inches from Ichigo's feet. Then, Hachigen said, in a voice that sounded a bit wobbly, "My apologies, I should have been more prepared."

"S'okay," Ichigo replied, still blinking away green afterimages. Shit, that had been close. Too close. His face felt scorched and he could still feel the residual heat on his lips. He licked them, forcing his attention over to the hollow and Iba-neesan's forces.

They were getting creamed.

Whatever had been wrong with the adjucha seemed to have worn off. The thing's speed had picked up to scary levels and so had its strength going by the way it was throwing guys around. Jackie was still at the forefront of it, fast moving and accurate as she attacked again and again. And she wasn't the only one. The other main player was Tetsuzaemon, but even between them, they were hardly slowing the thing. They just weren't strong enough. It was going to take captain level power to put that hollow down.

Or, hopefully, prematurely-promoted lieutenant level power with a side order of Quincy.

Climbing to his feet, Ichigo began unsealing and stripping off his gloves. "Can anyone outside sense what's going on in here?" he asked, casting a quick glance at Hachigen.

"No, sir," Hachigen replied. "Iba-neesan wanted the strongest barrier I could make."

That was all he needed to know. Dropping his gloves to the floor, Ichigo closed his eyes and reached out. He needed more reiryoku than he currently had, but he couldn't take it from just anywhere, not with Chad behind him still recovering from injury. Hachigen felt tired too, and so did the fighters. The hollow was another story. It shone with a pulsing sickly glow that was going to taste like shit but would still bankroll what Ichigo needed to do.

Keeping his focus on that source of power and nothing else, Ichigo began to manifest. Normally when he did this, it was by pure instinct; he needed Zangetsu and so Zangetsu came. This was a bit different. Despite everything that had happened, he was actually pretty calm. Plus, Chad was watching and though Ichigo would deny under torture that looking good in front of Chad was important to him, it really was. Especially right now, when he'd come so close to losing him.

Despite those distracting thoughts, when Ichigo yanked on the hollow, the power came, building and adding to his own, swirling through and around him, higher and tighter. It was a bit like sex, except it was happening in his soul not his body, and at the crucial moment, when his skin felt too small to keep everything inside where it belonged, some switch inside him flicked and poured everything down his arms, into his hands and on into the blade. Like getsuga tenshō, except it made the blade rather than empowering it. Brought the blade into being, into life. Dragged it out of his soul, gave it form, and forced it to manifest.

Between one moment and the next, Zangetsu snapped into existence, filling Ichigo's hands with its familiar reassuring weight. The excess reishi immediately bled off across the rest of him, replacing civilian kosode and old hakama with a new black shihakushō, until the whole of his power settled around him like a second skin.

With a satisfied huff, Ichigo opened his eyes and swung Zangetsu up onto his shoulder. It was time to go cleanse a hollow.

* * *

So that was how it was. Ichigo, a shinigami.

Having just got his best friend back after so long, seeing him in that uniform was enough to curdle Yasutora's stomach. The Ichigo he now-remembered had been a stand-up guy, not the type to get sucked into all the ugliness that the Gotei stood for.

Yasutora grimaced and looked away, ending up face to face with Hachi instead. As always the big guy's expression was sad and understanding, and it made Yasutora feel like the worst kind of heel. If anyone had a right to hate shinigami, it was Hachi. But he didn't. He didn't hate any of them, despite what they'd done to him and his family.

And what was Yasutora's excuse by comparison? That shinigami were part of the crowd that screamed for his blood. It was true that they formed the bulk of it, but there were others as well; civilians, both nobles and commoners; so if Yasutora was going to hate shinigami, shouldn't he hate them too. Hate everyone in Seireitei.

"He called you his friend," Hachi said. "Would a true friend change so much that you could look upon him with hate?"

Yasutora's gaze dragged back to Ichigo as he swaggered across the arena with that huge sword propped on his shoulder. In his mind's eye, the black shihakushō faded away, replaced by a Mashiba Middle School uniform. The sword became a book bag, swung to good effect at anyone who thought Ichigo, or any of his friends, were easy targets. The arena, a back alley, a classroom, a piece of waste-ground where bullies lay in wait for the unsuspecting.

The coin in his hand burned and he glanced down at it, memories of that day flooding back as well.

He was being an idiot. Ichigo couldn't have changed that much. The clothing might be different but the core parts of him, the things that made him Ichigo; loyalty, sincerity, bloody-minded determination to protect those he cared about; they'd be the same as they always were.

With a quiet grunt, Yasutora fastened the coin back around his neck where it belonged and climbed slowly to his feet. His insides shifted in unpleasant ways as he moved, reminding him just how close he'd come to dying.

"Thanks," he said, glancing at Hachi. "You saved my life."

"Not me," Hachi replied with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry Yasutora-kun but there was nothing my skills could do to help you. Whatever that was, it wasn't healing kidō."

Yasutora frowned down at himself, tugging at the scraps of material that were all that was left of his top. The skin was definitely scarred and he could feel that everything wasn't quite fixed, yet. It was good enough though for what he needed to do.

He nodded at Hachi and then, hand pressed to his side, limped across the arena after Ichigo, who was talking to Iba-neesan. They seemed to be arguing about something. Jackie, with help from Tetsuzaemon and his men, had the hollow pinned down for the moment with a mixture of kidō and numbers, though Yasutora could see it was only a matter of time before it got free again.

"It's gotta be worth a try," Ichigo was saying when Yasutora arrived. "Zangetsu says he can do it and I believe him."

Iba-neesan shook her head. "And if it gets free and kills you, how's that going to look, huh?" The set of her jaw said everything. "No, you stay clear, orange-boy, let us handle it." She turned away dismissively.

Yasutora grinned as an equally obstinate expression appeared on Ichigo's face. "Oi! That's what I'm on about! You lot can't handle it," he snapped. He pointed over at the hollow, currently fighting free of its kidō restraints. "That thing's an adjucha, which means no one below a captain level's gonna be able to kill it."

"And you are, I suppose!" Iba-neesan shot back. "I don't think so. You're no stronger than my boys-"

"Bullshit!" Ichigo looked ready to punch something. He dragged his sword over his shoulder and slammed it into the ground in front of him. "At least I've got a zanpakutō!"

Iba-neesan's gaze skated briefly up and down the thing. "You're not the only one," she said, and turned back towards the fight.

"What d'you-?" Ichigo began, only to interrupt himself with a disgusted, "Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me! He wasn't even seated!" as one of Tetsuzaemon's guys, the new one, an ex-shinigami called Fūra, stepped up brandishing a sword. He looked terrified, but gripped his weapon with both hands as he approached the hollow's restrained head.

It howled, straining after him. Ichigo cursed quietly and said, "Iba-neesan, I'm serious."

"He'll be fine," Iba-neesan replied, eyes fixed on the encounter and hands clenched at her sides.

"He's not, it's gonna kill him."

Sharp grey eyes turned on Ichigo, and Yasutora waited for the lecture. "I'll not be beholden, not to the Gotei," Iba-neesan said. "What is mine, is mine to protect, and no one else."

Ichigo made a disgusted sound but didn't say any more. There wasn't much he could say that would change anything. Iba-neesan's mind was made up. There'd be no shifting her opinion, and there was no way for Ichigo to force it. Not with her men in such a majority.

Despite the kidō, the hollow's teeth snapped closed within inches of the advancing Fūra, who hopped back several paces and shouted something to Tetsuzaemon. Hachi appeared beside him and more kidō wound around the hollow, trapping it against the sand.

Once it quieted, Fūra ventured in once again. Ichigo took a step towards them, as though drawn by an invisible string, reaching for his zanpakutō as he went. Fūra lifted his sword above his head, reiatsu swirling around him. For a moment he paused, then with a resounding kiai, he slashed down at the hollow's head.

Dust and sand exploded out around them in a choking cloud. The hollow wailed and some quality of its power changed. For a second Yasutora thought Fūra had managed to actually destroy the thing, then someone screamed, and Ichigo bellowed, "Shit!" grabbed his sword and ran.

As Ichigo shot forwards, the hollow snaked out of the cloud of debris towards him. Yasutora caught a glimpse of something trapped between its teeth and a single glowing red eye before another cero, more powerful than either of the ones before, bathed half of the arena in screaming scarlet energy that went on and on and on.

What felt like eons later but was probably only several thundering heartbeats, the cero vanished, its place taken by the silence and blindness of a dust cloud. From his place in the dirt beside Iba-neesan, Yasutora choked in a breath and looked up. Slowly, as the dust settled, the rest of the arena came back into view.

Ichigo was the only person still on their feet. He stood with his sword level in front of him, the blast wave cutting around him as though he'd formed a living barrier between the hollow and those it had been trying to kill.

As Yasutora watched, Ichigo yelled something over his shoulder. The group immediately behind him scattered, grabbing and dragging along those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast. The hollow spat out what it was eating and lunged at them, only to find its way blocked by Ichigo's sword. Snarling, it pulled back, the red glow starting to build in its eye once more. But it wasn't the only one gathering power.

Ichigo's clothing whipped in the wind of his swelling reiatsu, the weight of it almost as suffocating as the hollow's. Yasutora staggered to his feet, some instinct telling him to move, to get clear. That Ichigo wouldn't hurt any of them deliberately but what he was about to unleash was almost as dangerous to friends as it was to his enemies.

Grabbing Iba-neesan by the arm, they stumbled together back across the sands towards the barrier. From behind them, Yasutora felt a final rise in Ichigo's reiatsu and then, "Getsuga tenshō!"

Even as far away as they were, the release of power knocked them gasping to their knees. Yasutora forced his head up far enough to turn and look. Reiatsu poured out of Ichigo almost like the cero the hollow had used, though this was pure blinding white rather than a sickly red. It sliced through the hollow, disintegrating the two halves into dust, going on to crash against Hachi's barrier and then up into the roof space.

Yasutora mouth dropped open at the display. When Ichigo had said he could destroy the hollow, Yasutora had thought maybe he meant break its mask. After all, he was shinigami, and so'd had training the rest of them, barring Fūra, hadn't. But this… this total obliteration was way more than just training. If that type of hollow could only be destroyed by a captain's power, and considering Yasutora and Jackie hadn't even been able to damage it that was probably true, then Ichigo wasn't just any old shinigami, he really was a Gotei 13 captain.

Despite his shock, somehow Yasutora wasn't surprised. Ichigo had always been strong, so why would that change when he became a shinigami. And in Seireitei, strength meant power, and power meant being able to protect people, so it made sense that Ichigo had fought his way to the top. Hachi was right. Ichigo hadn't changed at all.

As the dust cloud settled, one or two cheers rang out around the arena, but they were half-hearted at best. Killing the hollow was only the start. Now came counting the cost of the damage it had done. And a lot of that had been in lives.

Yasutora pushed himself to his feet. At least forty people had been fighting at the height of the battle, now less than half were mobile, and littering the ground around them lay dark clad figures. Thankfully Jackie wasn't one of the downed. She and a short guy, who wasn't one of Iba-neesan's going by his clothes, were leaning over someone on the ground, either talking to him or helping him. There was blood on her face, but beyond that, she looked unharmed.

Relief zinged through Yasutora and he set off towards her. He only managed a few steps before the crack and groan of something structural failing came from above and, looking up, he caught sight of the catwalk torn free at one end, and dangling high above the arena, either trashed by a cero or whatever Ichigo had used to kill the hollow. Someone over Jackie's side of the arena yelled out a warning. Other voices joined in and then, with a sudden screech of tearing metal and tortured wood, the catwalk wrenched loose and plummeted towards the ground.

People bolted in all directions, most of them not fast enough. The catwalk hit the sand in an explosion of sound and dust, sending spars and splinters flying. Yasutora started running before he saw where it had landed, his eyes fixed on where he'd last seen Jackie.

Others got to it before him, but he was alone by his particular pile of the wreckage. Yasutora flung himself at it, dragging at struts and beams, their metal and wood digging into his palms as he yanked and wrenched, desperate to dig his way down to her any way he could.

Someone yelled at him. Yasutora ignored them and kept pulling. They yelled again.

This time he spared them a glance. It was Ichigo, his face red and crispy looking like he'd been standing too close to a fire, but the glower was familiar.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo said, gesturing at the strut Yasutora was hauling on. "You were nearly dead a couple of minutes ago. Go rest up or something. Let me handle this."

Rest up? When Jackie and who knew how many others were trapped. Yasutora didn't bother answering, he just turned his back on Ichigo and kept working.

"Hey! Don't just ignore me!"

When the grab came at his sleeve, Yasutora froze. This close, he could feel the burn of Ichigo's power, roiling and restrained though it was, and layered over it something that felt like hunger. With a shudder, Yasutora shook him off.

"I said, don't fucking ignore me!" Ichigo snapped again.

The second grab came with a bite. Yasutora jerked away in shock, looking at Ichigo, who was staring down at his bare hand as if he couldn't believe it was his.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" Ichigo began, taking a hurried step back.

The hesitation in his voice sounded all wrong. Yasutora glanced down at his arm, at missing cloth and reddened blistered skin. Whatever that had been, it had rattled Ichigo more than it had damaged Yasutora's arm, which meant Ichigo hadn't meant to do it. That was good enough, Yasutora knew all about not knowing your own strength.

With a dismissive grunt, he returned to the rescue. Once he knew Jackie was safe, they could talk about Ichigo trying to stop him. Right now the injured were more important.

He yanked hard at the strut he'd been pulling on before. The pile of metal and timbers creaked ominously beneath his feet, and someone trapped below yelled, "Stop fucking doing that! It's gonna collapse and squash us!"

Peering down through the wreckage, Yasutora caught a glimpse of the pale and bloodied face of the civilian Jackie had been talking to, just visible past a solid looking beam. "Anyone else with you?" he called down, as Ichigo inched closer and peered into the gap along with him.

"Yeah, yeah, there's…Oh fuck, oh fuck!" The note of hysteria in the guy's voice blossomed into full-fledged panic. "They're dead. They're both dead. Oh fuck, I'm stuck in here with two dead bodies. I'm so gonna die, gonna die, gonna-"

"Shin!" Ichigo snapped. "Quit freaking out and report."

The guy, Shin, visibly jerked at the sound of Ichigo's voice and squinted up through rubble. "Shiba-sama?"

Yasutora raised a curious eyebrow at Ichigo, wondering if the name and title were some kind of disguise.

Something else that'd have to wait for later, said Ichigo's answering shrug. Hunkering down, he called to the trapped guy, "Yeah, it's me. You need to report properly. Come on, you know how."

"Yeah," replied Shin, voice steadying. "Yeah, I do." He paused and puffed out a breath. "Okay, I'm stuck under something. My leg's trapped, but I can still feel my toes, so that's good right?"

"Yeah, that's good, Shin. What about the others?"

"There's two of 'em. Fūra and the fighter woman, Jackie." Yasutora's stomach clenched. Hadn't Shin said they were both dead? If anything had happened to her… "I can't tell if they're alive. They're too far away and… hey, hang on a mo, Fūra's moving."

A wet cough and a moan came from under the rubble and Shin cursed long and loud, "Shit, the tourniquet came off his arm. He's bleeding out."

Ichigo muttered something obscene, then stood up, yelling, "Hey, barrier guy!" at the top of his voice.

"Hachi," Yasutora told him.

Ichigo blinked before nodding. "Ah, thanks," and yelling again, even louder, "Hachi!"

Instead of Hachi, Iba-neesan appeared beside them, filthy and singed but as calm and collected as always. "What have you got?" she asked.

Looking around at the pile of rubble, Yasutora realised that everyone except him and Ichigo was working methodically in teams, like it wasn't the first time they'd had to dig people out of collapsed buildings. It probably wasn't. Shinigami did a lot of damage when they fought and the higher powered ones often didn't care where they did it or who got caught in the cross-fire.

"Three," Ichigo was saying, "Shin, Fūra and the woman."

"Jackie," Yasutora supplied.

As the quick debrief progressed, a worried frown spread over Iba-neesan's face. By the end, she was pulling up her sleeves. "You have decent kidō, orange-boy?" she asked.

Ichigo's faced twisted as he replied, "My hadō's okay, but my bakudō sucks."

Iba-neesan snorted, shaking her head. "Typical." Her eyes flicked briefly towards Yasutora before returning to Ichigo. "You're not seeing what you're about to see, okay, shinigami?" she said, before yelling loudly, "Everyone! Get ready to shift, on my mark!" and starting to incant. "T_en thousand trees, rock, stone and bone. Gather power within and without, shake the roots of all with your passing. Blood and meat, twist and recompense, push forth all in one in all, and solidify! Bakudō 52, Koka!_"

At the final words, Iba-neesan slammed her hands onto the pile of rubble. It trembled, then seemed to pull together. "Now!" she shouted, breathlessly, and Yasutora could feel the power flowing from her.

Not waiting to see how long she could sustain it, he leapt forward with the others, dragging on struts, hauling out beams, shifting rubbish. Unlike before, this time when something was removed, the rest remained in exactly the same position. In next to no time he and Ichigo were lifting the massive beam away from Shin and that was when he saw her. She'd thrown herself over Fūra, presumably trying to protect him, and it had worked. The spar that should have pinned him to the ground had gone through her instead and the blood, which Shin had thought was Fūra's, was all Jackie's.

Gut sinking, Yasutora tossed away the beam and lunged for her, peeling her off Fūra and pulling her into his arms. She flopped over, a lax heavy weight that left no room for hope. Open empty eyes stared up at nothing. Her mouth gaped slightly, lips already drying and dusty. Blood covered one side of her face, and more dribbled sluggishly from the hole in her chest soaking into Yasutora's clothing as he bent over her, held her close and felt his heart break.

She was the only friend he had made in Soul Society. The only one who'd cared, the only one he'd been able to trust. Together they'd survived everything the place had thrown at them. Bandits, capture, the trials at the killing fields and finally the pits themselves. Through it all, Jackie had had his back, saved his life time and again, and at the very moment she'd needed him, Yasutora had let her down.

"Is she… Ah, shit." Ichigo's quiet words hardly registered. Nor did the gentle squeeze to his shoulder. Yasutora hid his tears against a cooling bloodied neck and let the world carry on without him, at least for a while.


	4. but the Living Never Stops

Ichigo gave Chad one last pat and stood up. There wasn't much he could do anyway except let him grieve. He stood guard as Shin and Fūra were lifted clear of the rubble and carried over to Hachi, who had a row of injured lined up on the ground in front of him. Shin had been wrong about the tourniquet. It was still around Fūra's arm, wrapped round the ragged splintered stump the hollow's teeth had left behind.

Ironic. He'd have lost the same limb if he'd stayed at the 10th, but the injury would have been cleaner and easier to heal.

Only one other body was dragged out, from the far side of the wreckage and someone Ichigo didn't recognise, but that seemed to account for everyone. At least, Iba-neesan let the kidō drop, so Ichigo guessed no one else was still trapped.

After the lifting work was done, Iba-neesan had moved away towards edge of the arena, and was now speaking intently to Tetsuzaemon. As Ichigo looked over at them, wondering what came next, she glanced up, and their eyes met, clashed, and held for several seconds before sliding apart, leaving Ichigo feeling the weight of the woman's cool consideration in their wake.

A moment or two later, after a final brisk exchange of words, Iba dismissed her son and started towards Ichigo, who pulled himself together and set off to meet her. It was time to face the music.

The only question was, what was this going to cost him. Because however much Ichigo wanted it not to be true, Iba-neesan had to have seen him manifest. She might even have seen him try and take a chunk out of Chad… Which, crap, his control over this stupid Quincy power was getting worse all the time, especially when he'd used up a lot of reiatsu. And that fight might have been quick but it had been a killer. He was going to need more than one decent meal and a night's sleep to build his reserves back up.

He wasn't the only one who'd overdone it either. When Iba-neesan stopped in front of him, she was pale and her hands were definitely shaking, so holding that kidō had stretched her. It was still impressive though. The first time they'd met, Ichigo'd suspected she could kick ass, and her performance tonight proved he wasn't wrong. She had to be third seat material at least, maybe even as strong as a lieutenant.

"How come you're not a shinigami?" Ichigo demanded, the words slipping out on tiredness and shock before he had a chance to stop them

Iba-neesan raised an eyebrow. "Because I have a business to run and no interest in being told what to do by a tin-pot general," she replied. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Problem? Why would it be a problem?

Ichigo was about to ask, when he realised exactly what she meant, and what she'd been getting at earlier when she'd told Ichigo that he wasn't seeing what he was seeing. She'd done kidō. And not the half-assed stuff that civilians sometimes managed to pull off by accident. That bakudō had been high level and well-practised, and theoretically impossible for anyone outside the Gotei or selected bodyguards. It was also highly illegal.

Which meant Iba-neesan might have something on him, but he had something on her too. Maybe this wasn't going to be as one-sided as Ichigo had feared. "It won't be, so long as you forget what you saw too," he said, too fed up with the whole situation to be subtle.

Iba-neesan harrumphed. "You mean that thing with the zanpakutō and the uniform? Never saw a thing," she said. "Neat trick though. Not common amongst shinigami from what I've heard, so I'm guessing it's all down your unique heritage."

Was there nothing she didn't know about? That was two things she could use against him, and Ichigo only had the kidō. Though - he looked around at the wrecked arena - maybe not. "That hollow," he said casually, "The adjucha. You don't catch something like that out in Rukongai. Where'd you get it?"

The expression on Iba-neesan's face darkened. "From 'never you mind,'" she said, "The one who did it'll get what's coming to them."

"I bet they will," Ichigo shot back, "But there's still going to be rumours." No way was she wriggling out of this. There was too much riding on it.

She shrugged, apparently not bothered. "My boys won't say anything."

Ichigo didn't believe the casual attitude for a second. And anyway, "What about the crowd? A lot of people saw that first cero. Without me on your side, you've got a lot of witnesses against you. You can't silence all of them." Could she? Going by the way grey eyes hardened, she might just try.

For a moment, Ichigo thought Iba-nessan might call his bluff, then she huffed, "Fine, we'll call it quits. Neither of us saw anything and neither of us knows anything. Good enough?"

Almost, but not quite. There was one more thing Ichigo needed. "Chad's mine."

Iba-neesan's stance tightened. "There's still some bouts left in him, so why would I do a damn fool thing like let him go?"

"Because you owe me," Ichigo said, throwing down his best card. He'd pay cash if he had to, however much she asked, up to and including all the blood money from Byakuya's currency note, but he'd try this first. "Last time I was down here, you said I could call on the family for one more favour. For saving your nephew." He felt shitty bringing Fūra up now, but this was Chad and he'd pull anything to free him. "Call it one slave's life for another."

Iba-neesan's gaze flicked over to where Chad was still clutching Jackie's body before returning to Ichigo. Her eyes narrowed, before one side of her mouth quirked up. "You drive a good bargain. It's a deal - on one condition." Before Ichigo could ask what, she jerked her thumb at Chad and added, "I want him kept quiet."

Ichigo frowned. "About what?"

"This. Tonight." Iba-neesan's chin jutted forwards as she spoke. "Look, the way it stands, all the money in Seireitei's not going to fix the reputation this place has just got. But an explanation might. Not many folks have seen this cero thing, but a lot of them know kidō. If we tell them the fighters tried using kidō against the hollow and screwed up, that'll cover all our asses."

That sounded do-able, except… "Woah, hang on. I don't want Chad ending up in trouble for using kidō."

"He won't be. On paper, he'll be dead."

Dead? How the hell would that even work? Wasn't Chad kind of famous or something?

Apparently his expression must have told Iba-neesan what he was thinking. She gestured to the arena. "The Twins, Chad and Jackie, always wear masks when they fight. The worst that'll happen is that someone will recognise him from the izakaya and frankly," she coughed a laugh, "given your reputation, no one's going to bat an eyelash if you come home with some handsome hunk in tow, you know."

Heat rushed to Ichigo's cheeks. "It's not like that. He's not… Chad's a friend!"

Iba-neesan's smirk said she'd totally known that all along. Not that it stopped her poking him in the arm with a sharp finger and saying, "Sure he is, orange-boy, you keep saying that and one day someone might believe you. In the meantime, what do you say? We got a deal?"

Shrugging off the teasing as best he could, Ichigo gave the plan some serious thought. If it was just his own reputation, Chad'd probably go for it straight away. But it wasn't. It would mean blaming Jackie.

Ichigo glanced over at the hunched figure, his stomach hitting his boots at the sight of his best friend's shoulders shaking as he held Jackie close. She must have meant a hell of a lot to him. Would he be willing to let her take the fall? There was only one way to find out. "I'll can ask, I guess?"

"You do that," Iba-neesan said, "And tell him, whatever happens, the Twins are dead as of tonight. So if he refuses to go along with the plan, he'll stay with me and fight alone. And lone fighters last even less time than teams, he knows that. Alternatively, he can go with you, his contract with me'll be over and done. All he has to do is keep quiet."

Since Ichigo didn't plan on hassling Chad while he was still this upset, he checked on Shin first. The ex-10ther was sitting propped against the arena edge, eyes closed and head tipped back. His neat queue was gone and his mousy hair straggled loose around his face again. His bad leg, stuck straight out in front of him, was strapped with bandage from ankle to mid thigh, and he clutched a water bottle tightly in one fist.

Ichigo hunkered down beside him and said, "How're you doing?"

"Like a hollow shit a steel bar on me," Shin replied groggily, before jerking upright, eyes flying open and totally panic stricken. "Crap, Shiba-sama, I never - I didn't- Please don't tell Koji-san I spoke to you like that. He'll do his nut."

Ichigo grinned and gestured at him to calm down. "I won't. Promise. But we need to get back soon. Think you can walk?"

"I… guess," Shin said, starting to struggle to his feet. Rising himself, Ichigo offered him a hand, and didn't miss the flinch as Shin put some weight on his damaged leg. But Shin didn't let that stop him. He slapped gently at his thigh and, grinning lopsidedly, said, "I mean, it ain't nothing bad, just a bit squished, ya know."

As he glanced up, his gaze snagged on something behind Ichigo and his expression grew kind of distant. He was looking at Chad and Jackie, Ichigo realised.

"She saved my life," he said quietly a moment later.

Not sure what Shin was aiming at, Ichigo nodded and offered a quiet, "Ah."

Apparently it wasn't enough. Shin shook his head, "What'd she go and do that for? I mean, I never even knew her, and now she's dead instead of me."

"I guess she thought you were worth protecting," Ichigo suggested, at a bit of a loss how to explain throwing yourself between certain death and a stranger to someone who didn't get it. He knew he'd do exactly the same thing himself, though he had no idea why.

Shin snorted, "Yeah, maybe she thought I was important or something. That'd make sense."

And kind of missed the whole point of Jackie's selfless sacrifice. Which brought him right back to having to explain Iba-neesan's plan to Chad. This was going to suck so hard.

Ichigo sighed, clapped Shin on the shoulder and said, "I need to round up Chad, he's coming back with us. Be ready to head out, okay?"

The determined, "Yes, sir," that followed him across the arena was cold comfort in the face of what he had to do next.

* * *

"So, short version says, Iba-neesan'll let you walk free, so long as this fuck-up gets blamed on Jackie."

Ichigo held his breath; the fact that Chad hadn't said no straight away was a good sign. He might be a guy of few words but he wasn't scared of using them if he disliked a plan.

Chad frowned, intense dark eyes dropping briefly from Ichigo to the woman he was still holding and then back up. "Okay," he said.

"Just like that?" Ichigo blurted. Sure he'd wanted Chad to say yes, but he'd been expecting to have to fight for it. After all, this was Jackie's reputation they were talking about. "If this happens, everyone's going to remember her as a criminal who killed and hurt people."

Chad lifted one shoulder. "Doesn't matter. It won't be Jackie getting the blame, not really. Just the Twins, and that wasn't her. Just a mask she put on."

That… made a surprising amount of sense actually. Casting a quick look round the arena, at Shin standing waiting for them, and Iba-neesan organising her gangs of workers, Ichigo said, "Okay. I'll go pass on the good news and then we can head back to the 6th-"

"All of us." Chad adjusted his hold on the body and began to stand, shrugging off Ichigo's attempts to help. It took him two attempts to get his feet under him, and even when he was up, he swayed on the spot. That Hachi guy might have healed him up some, but he still wasn't right. Not that it stopped him from fixing Ichigo with a flat look and saying, "Jackie comes too."

Damn. Shooting a quick glance over at Iba-neesan, who'd noticed and had started heading towards them, Ichigo said, "I get that you want to bury her, but seriously, I don't think that's gonna fly-"

"They'll sell her for parts," Chad said, and fuck, Ichigo hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

Memories of some of the things he'd seen in the 12th flashed through his mind and, as Iba-neesan arrived, expression thunderous, Ichigo turned to face her, shoulders straightening. "He agrees, but the body comes with us," he said.

Iba-neesan did a double take, before turning to Chad and looking him up and down. He stared silently back at her, Jackie cradled in his arms, his expressionless face pale, and Ichigo was struck yet again by the way physical size meant nothing in Soul Society. Chad might be over a foot taller than the woman confronting him, but all the power lay in her hands. And even ignoring her personal strength, here in this place, her word was law. Even Ichigo's rank meant little in this part of the Pits.

"You'll keep silent, no matter what gets said?" Iba-neesan asked.

Chad inclined his head, the only answer he seemed willing to give. But apparently it was enough for Iba-neesan. With a brisk nod, she turned to Ichigo and held out her hand, palm down. "Then it's done. With this, all debts are paid. A life for a life."

"Agreed," Ichigo replied and, unsure if he was supposed to shake on it or something, kind of waved at her.

Iba-neesan smirked, grabbed his wrist and smacked their palms together. "Sealed."

So that was how it went. "Sealed," Ichigo repeated, "And thanks." He shot a quick glance over at Chad. "For letting me have my friend back." Because the truth of it was, for all that Iba-neesan was the head of a criminal empire that kept slave gladiators, she wasn't a bad person. Most of the people Ichigo had run into in Seireitei, once they knew how important Chad was to him, would have tried to use the information to bleed Ichigo dry. Iba-neesan hadn't. Sure, she'd driven a hard bargain, but it was a fair one, and so she deserved his thanks.

The words seemed to throw Iba-neesan right off her stride though. For a brief moment she frowned at him, before that brilliant smile opened her expression right up and made her human again. Reaching up, she ruffled Ichigo's hair. "Ah, you're strange one, orange-boy, but I wish you good of it. Now, go on. Get the hell home before your big friend falls over." And with that, she strode away, already shouting orders to her boys.

Watching her go, Ichigo waved Shin over and then turned to Chad. And was only just fast enough to catch him as he slumped sideways.

"Fuck," he grunted as Chad's full weight, and Jackie's since Chad still hung onto her body, landed on his shoulder. A second later something else hit him in the back and a breathless voice said, "On two, we'll push him upright."

It was Shin. Of course. Ichigo gritted his teeth, dug into his dwindling supplies of reiatsu to bolster his muscles and said, "Take Jackie. I've got Chad."

At a guess, Shin felt the surge of power. He leapt away like a startled rabbit, before darting back in and trying to grab the body. But, even half-unconscious, Chad had other ideas. His arms tightened instinctively around his friend.

Ichigo huffed in irritation, "I get it, okay. But I'm not carrying both of you. Plus you don't look like you're up for shunpo, so you're gonna have to let Shin take her. He's not gonna let anything happen. Trust me."

For a second Ichigo thought he'd said the wrong thing and then Chad let out a gentle sigh and relaxed completely, letting Jackie slip into Shin's waiting arms and his full weight come to rest on Ichigo.

Iba-neesan was right. They needed to get home, asap.

* * *

Chad came round when they were halfway back to the 6th, which sped the trip up some, but did mean that, by the time they arrived, Shin was limping badly, and Chad needed all Ichigo's support to stay upright.

"Oi! Open up!" Ichigo called as he dropped out of his final exhausted step of shunpo right outside the main gates. That was it. He was done in. No more moving for him until he'd got some food and slept for about four hours.

The corner beside the gate looked like the perfect spot to sit while they waited for the medic to arrive. Out of the wind anyway, and so maybe a bit warmer. Shin seemed to have the same idea. He was already lowering Jackie's body respectfully to the ground as Ichigo stumbled over and helped Chad slide down the wall until he was sat leaning against it.

Now they'd stopped moving, Chad had begun shivering badly. Ichigo tugged at his kosode ties with tired fingers, and eventually managed to peel the garment off. It was stiff with dried blood but it beat nothing, and what was left of Chad's fighting gear hardly covered enough to be decent, let alone warm. Chad hardly seemed to notice as Ichigo settled the kosode around his shoulders. His fingers were now firmly tangled with Jackie's, as though he planned never to let go.

Behind them, the inspection hatch on the gate suddenly slammed open and a menacing voice growled, "No access before sun-up, so be on your way."

Before Ichigo could say a word, Shin hobbled forwards, snapping, "That's no way to speak to yer captain, moron. Now open the freakin' gate."

"Captain?" The guard let out a mean laugh, "Hah! Nice one, but I know you, Shin Jirō. I know what you did back at the 10th and what kind of guy you are, so don't think you can start throwing your weight around just because our captain's a soft touch, got it? He's not here right now, he's tucked up in bed, like he's supposed to be, and if you don't shove off, I'll come out there give you the hiding you deserve."

As the guard ranted, Shin's face drained of the little colour it had left, but he held his ground. Ichigo stayed quiet, ready to jump in but curious as to what else might get said. No one ever spoke this candidly when they knew he was there.

"Just open the gates before you make a complete fool of yerself," Shin shouted back.

A quieter voice spoke somewhere inside, and the gates began to open. Hashigami, the big fourth seat appeared in the gap, one hand on his zanpakutō, the other holding up a kidō light.

His gaze went unerringly to Ichigo and no more than a split second later, he bowed respectfully. "Good evening, taichō-san."

Ichigo stepped out of the shadows, hearing a squeaked, "Oh shit!" from the other side of the gates as the kidō lit up his face. Good. If that was the way the rank and file was treating Shin when Ichigo wasn't around, people deserved to be worried.

"Evening, Hashigami. Round up a couple of stretchers, will you, and dig Takata out. Tell her we've got suspected internal injuries, and maybe a broken leg."

"You, sir?" Hashigami asked, the worry in his quiet voice almost imperceptible.

"I'm good, just tired," Ichigo replied. "It's these two." He gestured to Chad, and Shin who'd limped back over to the corner to join him.

"And the other-? Oh."

Ichigo glanced back at Jackie. They hadn't been able to cover her before setting out, but now Shin had stripped off his coat and was laying it across her face. Watching it happen, Chad looked about ready to burst into tears again. "Yeah, we're gonna need somewhere to keep her until the funeral-"

"Shiba-sama!" Koji appeared at the gate looking frantic with worry. "Thank all the gods you're back in one piece. I heard there was a terrible accident down at the…" His words trailed off into a stricken expression as he saw the state of them. "Please tell me you're not injured," he finished in a small voice.

"I'm fine," Ichigo reassured him, as they were all interrupted by the arrival of several medics bearing stretchers. Ichigo caught Koji's arm and guided him out of the way as they started work on Shin and Chad. "Listen, I need you to organise a funeral. For a friend of the family, so make it nice, okay? I dunno how people do it here, but something a bit special."

"A funeral. Y-yes, Shiba-sama, of course. May I ask, for whom?"

Jackie's full name. They'd need it for the gravestone. Ichigo turned to Chad. "Did she have a family name?" he asked.

Chad raised his head, frowning as thoughts slowly crossed his face. The medic treating him backed off for a second and settled on his heels. After a moment, Chad shook his head. "If she did, she never told me."

That might be best anyway. It was just possible someone might have recognised it and made a connection to the Twins, but if Chad hadn't remembered anything about his past life before now, then with luck no one here at all knew his name.

Ichigo turned back to Koji. "Use Sado Jackie. It's not her name, but it's one she respected."

Koji bowed and began backing away, which was when when Ichigo realised that the roofs of the surrounding buildings were becoming visible against a lightening sky. "Shit, it's morning already?"

"Yes, my lord. The five o'clock call has already sounded."

Which meant Ichigo had a meeting in less than an hour. With lawyers, no less.

"Fuck." With a sinking heart, Ichigo scrubbed his hands through his hair, thought longingly of his lost night's sleep, and delegated. "Stay with them, will you, Koji? Until the medics know what's up and then come tell me. I need to go-" Eat, as much as he could cram in. And change, probably. Ichigo looked down at himself, at his filth and the blood covered shihakushō, and heaved a silent sigh. "I need to go take a bath."

* * *

"Look over here, please?" the medic said.

Were they talking to him? With difficulty, Yasutora dragged his attention away from Jackie. A bright light flashed in his eyes. "You mentioned loss of memory. Did you receive a blow to the head at all?"

"Not since- " But no, he wasn't allowed to speak about Hachi or fighting in the Pits. So, "No." He didn't think there was anything seriously wrong with him, except tiredness. And hunger. For the first time in ages, his belly felt profoundly empty.

Food? He was thinking about food when she was dead? He was scum. It should've been him who died, not her. Never her.

"Good, then let's get you to the infirmary so we can do a proper check."

A small hand appeared in his line of sight. Yasutora blinked at it. They wanted him to move.

His fingers tightened around Jackie's - cold, too cold.

"If you don't think you can make it, we could use a stretcher. Though I think I'll have to send for one of the extra long ones."

The hand was still there, but he couldn't work out how to reach for it. Even thinking about it felt like a trying to reach for the moon.

"I keep telling them they should restock. We're not all shrimps like them," a different, quieter voice said. And there was something about that voice, something capable, solid.

Yasutora raised his head. The man hunkered down in front of him was losing his hair.

When he saw he had Yasutora's attention, the guy dipped his head slightly and continued, "Hashigami Tou, fourth seat. You're a friend of Shiba-taichō?"

If Shiba-taichō was Ichigo, then he was, but was Yasutora allowed to say that? Unsure of the right answer, Yasutora simply sat there.

Hashigami's eyes cut towards Jackie. "She was your friend then?"

That he was allowed to answer, he thought, but when he followed Hashigami's gaze, there was Jackie's body and the words turned to dust in his mouth.

She was dead.

"You said he's okay?" Hashigami asked, but he wasn't speaking to Yasutora, so that didn't matter.

"It's difficult to say without a proper examination," the medic said, "but there's no obvious injuries." They were speaking over his head. Talking about him. That was okay. He'd didn't much feel like taking part in any conversations anyway.

"So long as it's okay to haul him around," Hashigami said. A moment later, hands slid beneath Yasutora's arms. "Come on, up you come. You can't sit there all day."

The lift did what the offered hand hadn't and forced Yasutora to move his body. The rest happened automatically, though they had a brief moment of crisis when they discovered his fingers had cramped and he couldn't let go of Jackie's hand. The medic helped him release them and then they were apart; Jackie being loaded onto a stretcher and Yasutora being turned and checked over again.

Yasutora let it happen, his gaze still following Jackie as far as he could. The medic prodded and probed before glancing up and saying, "You're a lucky guy. If there hadn't been a healer nearby when this happened, you'd be dead by now."

Except Hachi had said he hadn't been able to heal it. And Yasutora couldn't tell anyone that. He blinked at the medic instead.

"Straight to the infirmary then?" Hashigami asked and when the medic nodded, he added, "I'll tag along, just in case."

Wide-eyed, the medic replied, "Thank you, sir," before smiling up at Yasutora and saying slowly, "Come with me, please."

They thought he was stupid, or mad. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Little was asked of such people, so nobody would be surprised if Yasutora didn't answer their questions.

Silently, he followed Hashigami and the medic, keeping an eye out for the team that were carrying Jackie. When they split off to go in another direction, Yasutora's feet automatically went with her. He was stopped by a hand on the arm and Hashigami saying kindly, "She'll be fine. They're taking her to the morgue."

With a lingering backward glance, Yasutora let her go. He didn't really have a choice. Having decided to trust Ichigo, he kind of had to trust the people that Ichigo trusted. Even so, the increasing gap between them seemed to pull on his insides, like somehow he was still attached to her. He felt cut open and exposed, vulnerable in every direction. And desperately lonely.

_You are not alone, not anymore_, someone said, so clearly that it sounded like they were standing right behind him.

Startled, Yasutora swung round, fists up to defend against whoever'd got the drop on him. There was no one there. Only Hashigami and the medic, both now staring at him like he might flip out completely and start attacking people. Had it been them? No, the voice was completely different. Deep, rumbling, firm.

Yasutora forced his hands back to his sides, dipped his head in apology and stepped back into line. Hashigami dropped back to walk behind him and, oddly, despite making him feel like a prisoner, that actually helped. At least his back wasn't totally exposed.

The infirmary, when they arrived, was smaller and much busier than Yasutora had expected. It was only a single storey building, no bigger than the barracks he'd shared with Iba-neesan's other fighters, and every room they passed was full to bursting. People had even spilt out into the hallways, and were sleeping curled on bedrolls close to the walls.

When they finally stopped outside a room, they had to stand aside as a group of about six shinigami were hustled out, some with mats tucked under their arms, others being helped by medics. Past them, through the door, Yasutora could see two pallets being quickly made up with fresh bedding. For some reason, those others had been evicted to give him a room of his own.

"In here, please," the medic said, gesturing to an empty bed once the room was clear. "Takata-sensei will be along to see you as soon as she's free."

Yasutora went where he was pointed, too numb to do anything else. Behind him, the door slid closed, its wood and paper construction doing nothing to shut out the world but giving him an illusion of privacy at least. He stood for a moment, his thoughts leaping haphazardly from memory to memory to fresh painful grief. Normally at this time of the day they'd be with Hachi, having any injuries healed that might cause them long term problems. Or, if they were lucky enough to get through the fight with just cuts and bruises, they'd be sleeping on beds they'd pushed together for warmth and comfort.

But there was no 'they', not any more.

Except, with Ichigo back in his life, perhaps there could be.

Sinking slowly onto the bed, teeth digging into his lip to stop a pained grunt from leaking out, Yasutora tried to fit his new old memories back where they came from and found that, with everything that had happened to him since he lost them, it was almost impossible.

Ironically, the ones of Mexico and those from just before he died fit the best. They were all about blood and loss, anger and the pain of bruised fists. It was the ones in-between, of Karakura, school and Ichigo, that felt skewed. They seemed too normal, and the space that Ichigo had always had in his heart had been partially over-written by Jackie.

The thing was, although he trusted his old friend implicitly, Yasutora had no idea how he and Ichigo fit together anymore. He and Jackie had been simple. With his fists and her feet they made one whole fighter, one person. Their lives and relationship revolved around survival and the knowledge that one day they would die in the arena sands and no one would mourn them but each other.

With Ichigo, Yasutora had never fought for himself. The lynch-pin of their relationship had been mutuality; they each protected what was important to the other.

Now, Ichigo was a shinigami, a Gotei captain and, if Yasutora had understood the titles being bandied about, a noble. Yasutora was an ex-pit fighter with nothing to his name but scars and totally shot nerves. So what was between them now? Were they even still friends?

He laid back against the pillow, managed to get his hands comfortable on his chest, and tried to let this new world wash over him, hoping that somehow not fighting it would make it come easier. But, as his body stopped moving, his mind kind of stuttered to a halt along with it, and Yasutora found himself staring at the ceiling, mind blank and eyes wide open, stuck in a kind of waking sleep that he knew would do nothing to ease his bone-deep exhaustion.

What felt like hours but was probably no more than a few minutes later, he vaguely registered the sound of several sets of footsteps in the corridor and people talking outside the door. It sounded like two men and a woman, and to start with their voices were nothing but hushed whispers. But pretty soon they grew loud enough for Yasutora to hear most of what they were saying.

"So what's he brought back this time?" the woman was asking.

"No idea," one of the men replied. "I just hope it's not a treacherous rat like the last one. I can't believe he actually took the guy on, as a servant too. Taichō would never have done that."

The third speaker, male, rougher spoken and familiar sounding, chimed in, "Nah, he'd have had him thrown out so fast his feet wouldn't have touched the floor. Him and the others."

"And good riddance too, that's what I say," said first man.

"'Exactly. The 6th isn't a damned refugee camp." Now Yasutora recognised the voice. It was the gate guard who'd refused to let them in.

"I thought it was nice - " the woman began.

"You would," the gate guard retorted, then continued with a lecherous laugh, "Bet you'd fancy a bit of that for yourself, eh? Captain rescuing you from the sweaty masses."

"You're vile, Sue," the woman retorted. "At least Shiba-taichō cares about people."

"Oh yeah, he's a total bleeding heart."

"A bleeding heart that'll be bleeding out soon enough, if you ask me."

That was greeted by mumbled agreement from the others, then the woman said, "It's not fair. How can he defend us properly when he's only had shikai a few months. It's not like the new lieutenant's strong enough to make up for it."

"Eh, give the kid a chance."

"That's fine for you to say," the politer of the two men said. "When the barbarians invade, they'll probably cut your head off to get rid of the ugly." He raised his voice, continuing over the other's loud protests, "Kourai and I, on the other hand, aren't likely to get off so lightly."

The woman's titter was almost drowned out by the gate guard's snort of amusement. "Yeah, right. Don't worry, beautiful, I'll be your second if someone does a run on us."

"I don't know as I'd go that far. I mean, surely it'd make more sense to just throw our lot in with the newcomer, right?" An ominous sort of silence followed that suggestion, broken a few moments later by a loud sigh and the same guy saying, "I suppose there's no point making more worries. We've got enough dealing with these new rotas."

"Oh, do not get me started on those," the woman said indignantly, starting in on a rant about downtime and rotations that Yasutora couldn't follow.

He was halfway to zoning out completely when one of the guys snapped, "Heads-up. Grass incoming."

The sound of people scuffling into position outside the door was followed several long seconds later by halting footsteps and another familiar voice complaining, "I can walk on me own, you know. You don't gotta hold me up."

The door slid back and in hobbled Shin, one arm slung over the shoulders of the guy Yasutora vaguely remembered Ichigo talking to outside the big gates. He was dressed in black clothes with a mon printed on them in red and had his hair tied in a traditional queue. Some kind of servant, Yasutora guessed, trying to get his head around Ichigo being someone who had servants. He was probably really bad at it. Too independent and pig-headed.

"Shiba-sama told me, 'Koji, stay and help,' so stay and help I will," the guy - Koji presumably - said, helping Shin over to the other bed and lowering him down onto it. He flicked a quick glance at Yasutora, who was struggling up into a sitting position on his own bed, and added, "I'm to report back on both of you before starting arrangements for the young lady's funeral."

Shin's eyes followed, meeting Yasutora's for a second before flinching away. "Good," he mumbled into his chest, "She deserves somethin' nice."

"So you say, and yet you won't tell me why." This time when he looked over at Yasutora, Koji addressed him properly, "I suppose you're the same? Sworn to secrecy about her amazing deeds."

He was, but that didn't mean he couldn't say anything. "She saved his life," Yasutora said, nodding at Shin. It felt good to speak of her death in brave terms. Made it feel less of a waste. He settled back against the wall, feeling his muscles starting to loosen and lose some of their terrified tension.

"Saved his life? That's it? That's what earns her burial in the Shiba graveyard." Koji tutted disapprovingly. "Kuchiki-sama would never have allowed this to happen."

Kuchiki. Now there was a name Yasutora knew. They were one of the highest ranking families in Seireitei, but what did they have to do with Ichigo? Or more to the point, how had Ichigo got mixed up with them?

"And who's going to pay for it, that's what I want to know," Koji continued, dropping into a tired looking seiza beside Shin's bed. "The household purse is nearly empty, and though tradesman might keep supplying food and fabric on credit, this is going to require stonemasons. And priests! And priests always demand cash upfront."

He sighed, gaze dropping dejectedly to his hands that were resting in his lap. "Serving Kuchiki-sama was never this difficult."

Shin and Yasutora exchanged glances over his head. By the expression on Shin's face, this outburst was a new one on him too. Yasutora shrugged. He hadn't a clue. The guy was Shin's friend, not his.

"I guess you could try a money lender," Shin ventured cautiously. "They ain't fussy about who's borrowing, so long as you pay it back."

Koji's head shot up and Yasutora knew immediately that the suggestion had been a mistake. "A money lender?" Koji snarled, loud enough that Yasutora winced, remembering how easily he'd been able to overhear the conversation going on outside. "A noble can't have dealings with the likes of them! Think of the dishonour if word of it got out! The shame! No, completely impossible. I'd sell my own body on the streets before allowing Shiba-sama to sink to such depths."

This time the glance Yasutora and Shin exchanged was more amused disbelief. But Koji wasn't finished, though he continued in a much quieter voice. "Anyway, it's not like he doesn't have the money. Kuchiki-sama left the Shiba accounts in good order. I'm sure he couldn't have drained it all." He glanced at Yasutora, expression mildly disapproving. "Whatever foolishness he's chosen to spend it on."

"If he's got it, why not just ask him for some," Shin asked, posing the very question Yasutora had been pondering.

But Koji looked aghast at the idea. "I can't do that. How would it look? As though I couldn't manage his household, that's how. Oh, I'm such a failure. I don't know what Kuchiki-sama was thinking, leaving me to look after the young master. I can't even provide a bed for him. And he eats in the mess. The mess. I ask you, is that an appropriate place for the Shiba clan-head to take his meals."

The poor guy looked on the verge of tears, wringing his hands with his shoulders hunched up round his ears. Yasutora couldn't stand it. "You should ask him about the money," he said. "He'd be upset if he knew he was making things hard for you."

"And how would you know," Koji snapped peevishly. "You only met him this evening. Unless you're going to tell me you're some kind of long lost friend."

Rather than answer, Yasutora just inclined his head, but it was enough.

"You- you are?" Koji gasped, mouth hanging open in shock.

Shin squinted between the two of them. "Eh? How can that be, he was a- I mean, he worked at- " Apparently giving up on trying to explain why an ex-pit fighter couldn't be an old friend of Ichigo's without actually disclosing any secrets, Shin shook his head and asked Yasutora, "How come ya know him then?"

It was Koji who answered, though his eyes didn't shift from Yasutora's face as he spoke. "I assume from before. Since, had the young master made such a friend in the past year, his lordship would certainly have found out."

"What d'ya mean, 'from before'…" Shin's words tapered off, replaced by an expression of total shock. "Hang on. You ain't saying he's one of us?"

Koji shot a scathing look at him. "One of you. I was born this side of the wall, thank you. And no, not entirely. Although Shiba-sama was somewhat human, he was never subjected to the indignities of the camps. Such a thing would be inappropriate for one of his station."

"Fuck inappropriate, how can he be a noble and not a pure soul? I thought…" Shin had begun to look desperate. "That's what it all means, innit? All this shit about them and us. Them being better 'cause they ain't polluted from being born. And if it ain't true then - then how come he gets handed everything and - and the likes of me gets to grovel and still end up with nothing?"

Damn good question, and one Yasutora wouldn't mind seeing answered. But before he could open his mouth, Koji thwacked Shin round the back of the head and snapped, "Curb your ungrateful tongue, boy. Shiba-sama gave you a place when everyone else would have been happy to see you go to the 12th, so don't you start with rubbish like that."

"Not to mention it being treason," a woman's voice chimed in as the door opened. Behind her, Yasutora could see a gaggle of horrified looking shinigami gathered in the hallway. It looked like Yasutora had been right about their conversation attracting an audience.

"Takata-sensei," Koji said, leaping to his feet and bowing deeply as the woman entered, pointedly closing the door in the faces of those outside. "Please, he didn't mean any harm. He's just a stupid gaki with a big mouth."

Takata, a older woman with her salt and pepper hair done up in a twist on the back of her head, gave him a disapproving look before turning her attention to Shin. He'd thrown himself face first on the bed, his strapped leg stuck out at an awkward angle, and he seemed to be shaking.

The first glimmerings of unease started to unfold in Yasutora's belly. Despite everything, Iba-neesan had never stood on ceremony. Not with any of the fighters she owned. So long as you followed orders and were basically respectful, she didn't expect anyone to grovel. And not even the lowest of her people were forced to kowtow.

This was different. As Takata continued to stare at Shin, the aura of menace in the room increased until it reached almost unbearable levels. No, not just menace, reiatsu. She was using her reiatsu to press down on everyone. Koji had started sweating and his face was growing paler by the moment. But Yasutora could hardly feel it.

_Of course not. You have me now. _

Yasutora froze at the sound of the same deep, rumbling voice he'd heard in the courtyard. Since his back was pressed to the wall, it couldn't have come from behind him. Which meant it had to be inside his head. Was he going mad?

_Not mad, stronger._

Strength? Now that was something Yasutora could get behind. _Who are you?_ he asked tentatively.

He was met by silence, but not emptiness. Whatever - whoever it was, was still there. Waiting. For the right question, perhaps?

"Well, gaki? What do you have to say for yourself?" Takata said suddenly, jerking Yasutora out of his reverie. She'd moved closer to the bed and was now standing over the two servants. Even Koji was now on his knees.

Her reiatsu had risen again and taken on a sharp edge. Yasutora could sense it, pressed to the back of Shin's neck. The guy was squirming with terror and whimpering under his breath, and that was the final straw as far as Yasutora was concerned. This had gone way past respect and become bullying.

With a grunt of effort, he levered himself to his feet and took the couple of steps necessary to get close enough to Takata to stop her.

"Enough," he said as his hand closed around her forearm. He could have sucker-punched her, he supposed, but it was better to solve these things without violence if possible.

She was shinigami enough to do no more than twitch as he touched her, but her gaze when she glared up at him was icy. Yasutora met it without flinching, and kept his face expressionless as she upped the level of her reiatsu until it beat against his body. It hurt, like a thousand needles trying to pierce his skin. For a second, he felt himself starting to weaken, and then something inside him stirred and his own reiatsu rose to meet hers, settling as solid and unmoving as armour just above his skin.

Takata's eyes widened slightly, and Yasutora could see her reassessing him, moving him from victim to predator in her mind.

Would she challenge him? If she did, he didn't think he had much to use against her. Just doing this much was making him feel light-headed and faint.

A heartbeat later, her reiatsu vanished. She blinked, sniffed, and jerked her arm away from Yasutora, saying, "I will allow the words to pass this time, Shin Jirō. However if it happens again, I will be reporting you, even if you are Shiba-taichō's servant. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Takata-sensei," Shin stuttered, pressing his face deeper into the bedding.

"Good." She flipped open the file she was carrying and said, "You have a crush injury to your leg. How did you sustain it?"

Panicked eyes peered up from the quilt to meet Yasutora's. Shin, wanting to know what the hell he could say without setting this prickly woman off again.

Yasutora sighed silently, but accepted the mantle of protector for now. "If you need to know, you'll have to ask Ichigo," he said.

"Ichi-go?" Takata said with a frown. "You mean Shiba-taichō?" And Yasutora could see her re-categorising him yet again, this time from predator to potentially exploitable.

He nodded and watched her fight the impulse to say something, presumably to ask how he came to be on first name terms with her captain and whether what Koji had been saying was true. She settled on, "I shall make any necessary enquiries later then. For now, Shin, show me your leg."

The rest of her visit went off without a hitch, though it was painfully polite. As the door slid closed behind her, all three of the room's occupants heaved a sigh of relief that she was gone.

"She's scary," Shin whispered a few moments later. His leg had been re-strapped and he was under orders to stay off it as much as possible for the next twenty-four hours to let the healing Takata had done take properly.

Koji nodded agreement, settling back on his heels and rubbing his face with his hands. "And we have you to thank, Yasutora-san, for stopping her," he said, looking over at Yasutora.

Yasutora shrugged. He hadn't done much, not really.

"I can see why you're his friend," Koji continued, "You're very much like him."

"Yeah. Standing up for the little guy. Saved my ass, for sure," Shin enthused.

Koji gave him a cynical look. "You've changed your tune. I thought he was a spoilt noble who had everything handed to him on a plate?"

Colour rising on his cheeks, Shin dipped his head. "Yeah, well, I guess he ain't so bad."

"No, he isn't, and it's best you remember that. And control your hasty tongue, unless you want to lose it, along with your head?"

Though the words were harsh, Koji's tone wasn't. He was warning Shin, not trying to scare him and, for Yasutora, that brought the realities of this new life into a bit more perspective.

Being free wasn't the same thing as being safe. A wild bull may not have to face the matador, but it could be brought down just as effectively by a pack of wolves. Or by another bull.

On the other hand, there was nothing stopping it from seeking strength in numbers either.

"Anyway," Koji said, rising evenly to his feet, "I should go report on your progress to Shiba-sama. Since the mess is on my way, I shall have some food sent along for both of you."

Yasutora nodded his thanks. His own instructions from the doctor were for food and rest, though Takata had used healing kidō on his chest, which Yasutora had to admit did feel much better now. The odd disconnectedness he'd felt earlier was gone and he could breath much more easily.

Once Koji was gone, Shin relaxed even further, slumping back on his bed and puffing out a low sigh. "Fuck," he said, "that guy is so proper, he makes my teeth itch."

"Boss?" Yasutora asked.

Shin nodded, tipping his head against the wall to look over at Yasutora. "Hey look, I'm sorry about your friend. What she did for me… I'll never forget her."

Nor would Yasutora, however many years he continued on without her. The whole thing was too raw to even think about. He changed the subject.

"Where did you meet Ichigo?" he asked. If he was thinking of offering the hand of friendship to this guy, he should try and find out a bit about him first.

Shin's answer came as a bark of laughter and, "Would you believe on a street corner during a rainstorm."

As the story unfolded, a mess of violence and politics surrounding a captain's run on the 10th division, the conversation Yasutora had overheard earlier in the corridor started to make a lot more sense. The way Shin told it, it was a captain's job to defend their division. If they failed and someone else killed the old captain and took over, the repercussions for anyone who'd backed the wrong horse could be horrific; death, assault, or torture at the hands of the 12th. No wonder those shinigami had been so worried about Ichigo not being strong enough to defend them.

The only thing about the whole affair that didn't add up was, if Ichigo had been 'left in charge' of the 6th division rather than winning it in a captain's duel, what had happened to force the old captain and lieutenant out?

And if they were still alive…

* * *

The scream of a hunting hollow echoed off the high buildings. Byakuya rose warily to his feet as a human soul stumbled around the corner into the narrow backstreet where he and Renji were hiding. It was a young woman, sobbing hysterically as she ran past, probably driven to near madness by the chaos she had found herself plunged into upon dying.

A month ago, Byakuya might have helped her. Now he dared not even try. He was too weak, and what little strength he did have needed to be kept back for emergencies. Renji was still utterly unable to defend himself and so if Byakuya was killed, there would be nothing to stop the hollows coming after him.

Standing guard now over the blanket swaddled form behind him, Byakuya watched the hook-beaked hollow drop from the roof and pounce on the young woman, ripping her apart and starting to devour her in greedy gulping swallows. As it fed, Byakuya stooped to pick up his precious charge and, without a backward glance, strode quickly to the end of the alley. Using shunpo to boost his speed was out of the question. It would simply attract more hollows to their position, as would kidō or any other use of reiatsu, and there was a limit to how many hollows Byakuya could take on armed only with an asauchi.

When they'd first arrived, he'd been so angry and disgusted at what he'd found, that he hadn't cared about the danger. He'd fought for hours destroying every hollow he could find. Until he'd realised that, no sooner did he turn one to dust, than a garganta opened, disgorging another half dozen. The truth was, saving this place was an impossible task for one shinigami; the supply of hollows was endless.

So now he hid from them, ran from them, slowly making his way towards the outskirts of the city in the hopes of moving into an area under a different division's purview, since it was woefully apparent that whoever was in charge of this one had abandoned even the pretence of maintaining a balance between worlds. In the six weeks he and Renji had been in the living world, Byakuya had yet to see more than a handful of Gotei members, and those who had appeared simply stood back and observed the carnage rather than getting involved themselves.

The truth of the situation was, the only thing actively killing these hollows were other hollows, and that in itself was exceedingly worrying. Already he'd seen one feeding frenzy; a swarm of hollows piling atop one another, tearing and gorging on each other's spiritual flesh. That one had collapsed without transforming but sooner or later, one would metamorphose into a menos and this city would have nothing to defend against it.

And to think, when he'd destroyed the last of Senbonzakura forcing his way into the dangai, he had thought this place a sanctuary, somewhere they could regroup and Renji could heal. Instead, they had been catapulted into hell. One that Byakuya wasn't altogether convinced they were going to survive.

He managed a little over one spirit mile before he had to stop and rest again. This time he was lucky enough to find a partially abandoned building. Laying Renji carefully between a stack of boxes and a battered old metal barrel serving as a brazier, Byakuya eased the blanket aside to check on Renji's condition. He was still sleeping, as he had done since Byakuya used tanma otoshi on him back at Central.

In some ways, this was a good thing, or so Byakuya kept reassuring himself as the weeks passed and Renji showed no signs of waking up. Sleep was the natural healing method for any badly injured shinigami. The fact that Renji's reiryoku was all sealed inside him simply meant that the process was taking far longer than usual, that was all.

A rustle from a nearby pile of newspaper alerted Byakuya to their host waking up. The old man, who's fire they were taking advantage of, sat up, bleary-eyed and clutching a bottle of something undoubtedly strong and cheap to his chest. Byakuya watched him carefully as he squinted at Renji, or more accurately the oddly bundled blanket that had suddenly appeared next to his fire, and then at his bottle, before unscrewing the lid and taking a deep swig. A moment later, he was back under his paper blankets, snoring loudly.

Good. If the human was that far into his cups then Byakuya could afford to check Renji more closely.

Putting himself between Renji and the old man, just to be safe, Byakuya unwrapped the blanket completely, allowing Renji to sprawl onto his front atop the thin cloth. One tabi had slipped almost completely off Renji's foot and Byakuya busied himself putting it back on properly while steeling himself to deal with the rest.

Washing came first, as it always did.

Byakuya pulled out the small bundle of supplies he carried tucked into the front of his kosode and unwrapped it. He was tempted to steal some of the alcohol as a disinfectant, but given the way he'd been clutching it, the old man would undoubtedly notice its loss even when sleeping, so the water would have to do. Luckily Byakuya had managed to refill the bottle earlier at a fountain in a children's play park, the late hour having rendered the place deserted and thus safe from prying human eyes. Now he unscrewed the lid and stood the bottle to one side as he picked up the knot of clean cloths bundled alongside it.

Very few strips remained of the original collection. He would have to steal more soon.

Byakuya's heart sank at the idea. He hated having to do it. Not because the shops and homes would miss the small items he took, but because it meant having to leave Renji alone while he did it. But needs must. If he failed to keep Renji's injuries clean, infection was a real possibility, especially here in the living world.

It seemed grossly unfair that disease could effect shinigami when human food could not sustain them. Thankfully water was not a problem. Drinking fountains were frequent, and if necessary, the river was usable, if not palatable, all of which helped Byakuya maintain his strength at its current pitiful level. However to recover further he would need food, and that was proving a stickier problem.

Customarily, members of the Gotei assigned to the living world carried ration packs. And those assigned for longer periods would be granted the use of gigai, a type of false body produced by the 12th division, which allowed them to consume human food. Lacking either of those options, Byakuya was at something of a loss. But a solution would have to be found sooner rather than later, before his weakness became completely incapacitating.

As he mulled over the problem, Byakuya began the marathon task of cleaning Renji's wounds. Much of the paper-thin skin on his back and thighs had split under rough-handling by Aizen, and Byakuya himself as they'd fled through the dangai only steps ahead of the 'cleaner'.

Leaving Ichigo behind to deal with the fall-out.

No, he couldn't let himself think that. In resigning both commission and clan-leadership, Byakuya had distanced himself from Ichigo as far as was legally possible, which would be enough to protect him from any attempt at retribution for Byakuya's crimes. Domestically, Koji would see that his household was well-managed and at the 6th, Hisana would teach him the ways of politics.

With Yoruichi and Kyōraku beside him, helping hold his division as they had once done for an equally young and inexperienced Kuchiki, Ichigo would be fine. He had to be, otherwise all of this, everything Byakuya had done and had tried to do, was pointless.

Byakuya pressed a wet cloth to each of the open places on Renji's skin, gently wiping away the fluff and dirt that had collected in them since he'd last been able to properly stop. Two days ago, he thought, though he also suspected he was losing track of time.

And place. Several of the shops he had passed this evening looked very familiar and, though he was doing his best to follow the signs along the roadways, many of the words were unfamiliar to him.

The thought that he was lost and simply wandering in circles, never to escape this hollow infested hell, was starting to haunt Byakuya's thoughts. He did his best to dismiss them, focusing instead on the incremental improvement in Renji's physical condition.

See, his wrist. The bruise above the welt was much paler than it had been. He was healing. He would heal. Soon he would be recovered enough to awaken and then Byakuya could… Byakuya could…

Water dripped onto the back of his hand. It took Byakuya a moment to realise it was tears. That he was crying.

Sitting back on his heels, he blinked up at the ceiling, forcing his traitorous emotions back under control. He was of no use to Renji bawling like a child. What Renji needed now was the strength of his captain, even if Byakuya had left that rank behind along with his title and clan.

After a moment, he regained his equilibrium and finished the job off briskly, without allowing himself to become side-tracked by useless imaginings. Once Renji was clean and dry, Byakuya used the last of the water to wash his own hands and then replaced the empty bottle and what remained of the cloths into the bundle. That, he tucked back inside his shihakushō to keep it safe. Now all that remained was to make himself comfortable for the night.

He sank to the blanket beside Renji's head, curling partly round the sleeping man and running his fingers across the bare patches and uneven tufts of damp red hair that covered his scalp. There was no sign of that starting to regrow, which hopefully meant all the effort was going into healing.

"And when you are better, Renji," he murmured, bending to drop a kiss to that battered beloved face, "I will tell you how sorry I am for all of this. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."


	5. Pollution Revolution

"My lord, do you have a minute?"

Ichigo glanced up from the piles of paperwork Hisana had dumped on his desk this morning, along with instructions that it'd better be done by sundown or else, to find Koji peering round the office door, looking stricken at interrupting. Well, screw that. Ichigo wasn't like Byakuya. You didn't have to jump through hoops just to have a conversation with him. Plus, if he didn't get a break soon, he might just explode.

"Sure, come on in," he said, trying not to look too eager. "Let me just finish this and we can talk. How's Chad doing?"

"Fine, my lord. Sitting with his friend." Koji smiled a bit crookedly as he closed the door behind him. "Actually he reminds me of you."

Ichigo huffed a quiet laugh. "That's what comes from hanging out with the guy for years." He finished off the almost completed report, put down his brush and sat back to give Koji his full attention. "What about the funeral? Everything ready to go?"

"Oh, erm… " Koji stopped in the middle in the room and shot an eloquent glance over at Hanatarō, who was sitting in his usual place beside the window trying be inconspicuous.

But not inconspicuous enough, apparently. Right, privacy it was than. "Hey, Hanatarō," Ichigo said, "You wanna go get some tea? And um, take your time. No hurry, okay?"

The little negator hopped up with a polite, "Yes, sir," bowed and hurried out. He'd wait in the corridor until Ichigo was finished, a compromise they worked out between them that had the added benefit of stopping anyone else eavesdropping outside the door.

"So," Ichigo said once he and Koji were alone. "You've hit a snag?" It had been three days. His dad always reckoned to get everything except burying the ashes finished within five.

"A snag…" The word seemed to fascinate Koji and he repeated it silently a couple of times before saying, "Yes, well, I suppose you could call it that."

That sounded ominous. Was there some kind of rule about giving Jackie a decent send-off, her being from outside the wall. It wouldn't surprise him; stupid was the rule in Seireitei as far as Ichigo could tell. "Okay," he said, "grab a seat and tell me what I can do to help."

He gave the chair on the other side of the desk a shove with his foot. It scraped back a couple of inches, and Koji gave it a stunned look for a moment before tentatively reaching out, pulling it back further and perching on the edge of it like it might rise up and eat him if he dared breathe. "It's a delicate subject, my lord," he said once he was seated.

"Then I'll listen with my best manners on," Ichigo teased, trying to lighten the mood. Koji's expression didn't even crack. Crap, maybe it was that serious. "Come on, you're starting to worry me. What's gone wrong?"

Koji stared at him, mouth working and expression increasingly stricken.

Now getting really worried, Ichigo got up and came round the desk, hunkering down beside Koji and saying, "Seriously, is someone giving you shit over something, because if they are, I'll sort it out. It's not your job to get hassle."

"No, but it is my job to make sure your household runs smoothly," Koji replied, clutching at his hakama in a way that'd make Hanatarō proud. He looked up, and for fuck's sake, the guy was on the verge of tears. "I have failed you, my lord. There are no excuses. I would have found a way - my family, perhaps - but your friend said to…" With a heaving gulp, he dropped off the chair, nearly bowling Ichigo over as he went, and fell into a full kowtow. As his forehead hit the ground, he wailed, "Shiba-sama, please, I need money!"

Ichigo stared him, trying to get a handle on what was going on. "You owe someone?" he ventured finally, thinking about how the likes of Iba-neesan probably did the money-lending thing as well as gambling.

"The priests, my lord," Koji sobbed. "They insist on cash up front and I've tried everything I can think of, but nothing - " A hiccoughing sniff. "A thousand apologies, my lord, for being such a failure!"

It still wasn't making any sense. Ichigo tried again. "If you need to pay the priests, can't you just pay them? I mean, the money's there. I stuck nearly three million kan in the account yesterday." Byakuya's blood money. It seemed appropriate some of it would be used to give a brave commoner the burial she deserved.

"Three… million?" Koji slowly raised his head, fixing Ichigo with an expression of total disbelief.

Ichigo shrugged. "It was a refund. For a thing. But anyway, the money's in the account, so what's the problem?"

As he spoke, Koji slowly sat back on his heels, a rapid series of emotions passing across his face. They settled on a hopeful sort of indulgence. "That would have been your personal account, my lord. There's a separate one for your household. Did no-one instruct you in the running of it?"

Had Byakuya? Ichigo thought back. There might have been a couple of conversations about money and paying people and… Oh shit! "Koji, am I paying you?"

"Not currently, my lord, no."

"And everyone else?" Like the clan retainers and the personal guards and, oh fucking hell, he'd really screwed up this time.

"Those employed by the clan are paid by the Shiba accountant, so I would assume that all is well with them. I am only responsible for your personal household."

"Well that's good, I guess," Ichigo said, starting to rise. He was still missing something though. "Hang on, you said 'family'. You're married?"

A hint of irritation narrowed Koji's eyes. "For a century, my lord. She had the honour to serve as cook for… our old master."

Ichigo heard the stumble and ignored it. He knew how difficult it was for Koji not to speak of Byakuya the same way he had in the past. "So like, she did all the meals at the manor, right?"

The irritation firmed up into annoyance. "No, just for… him and lieutenant Abarai. And latterly yourself, of course. The master preferred to have meals prepared separately to the main household. My eldest daughter also served as maid. Her husband, the-"

"Houseman." Fuck it all, Ichigo remembered them now. Silent figures flitting around in the background, opening screens, cleaning floors, serving food. The woman who'd helped him pee that one time must have been Koji's daughter. He'd not given them a second thought since leaving Byakuya's quarters.

No, be honest - he'd not even given them a second thought while he'd been there. He'd been busy worrying about other things, like his sisters and his dad, and then Uryū and - crap. Ichigo sat back hard on his ass. "Where are they now?"

"My family? Staying with friends, my lord."

"They didn't move up to the manor?"

"No."

"Because…?"

Koji huffed a sigh. "Because, like myself, they now serve you as they once served Kuchiki-sama."

The whole family. And the only one of them he'd seen around was Koji, who he'd not been paying.

Even though he had a really bad feeling he knew the answer, Ichigo kept pushing. "So why aren't they here, with you?"

Koji broke. "And where would suggest I put them, my lord? In the corridor with Shin and myself? Eating the leftovers of your meals or begging for scraps from the mess? And their days. Should they clean the division's hallways and serve the common soldiers. You have no household for them to serve in, my lord. You do not even have a house!"

As the last word came out, high-pitched and loud, Koji slammed both hands over his mouth. His mortified wail escaped anyway, and he was back into a kowtow. Ichigo sat and stared at him, noting for the first time the unkemptness of his uniform and the dark rings under his eyes. How come he hadn't noticed? Had being Byakuya's boy-toy really blinded him this much?

If he hadn't noticed that the guy washing his clothes and preparing his meals was going hungry himself, then yeah, it had.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo said. He couldn't say much else. This was all on him. No one else had fucked it up.

Koji, still with hands over his mouth and his face on the floor, shook his head. In a quiet croaking voice, he said, "It's not you, my lord. It's me. Kuchiki-sama should never have entrusted your well-being to me when he left. These inadequate hands-"

"Woah!" Ichigo said. "Back up a step. You knew he was going?" Like everyone who'd been in the captain's quarters when Byakuya did his disappearing trick, Koji had been interviewed by the 2nd. His story had been the same as everyone else's: no sign that anything was wrong and a sleeping drug administered without warning by an unknown assailant. Ichigo knew because he'd seen the transcripts.

This sounded like something different.

Grabbing Koji by the arm, Ichigo hauled him upright. "Tell me! I need to know. Damn it, I need to find him!"

Koji looked terrified. "No, no, my lord, you cannot. To have contact with a traitor-"

"That is a pile of crap and you know it! No way did Byakuya kill Central 46. Now tell me. Tell me exactly what happened that night, I need to know."

When it came, it wasn't what Ichigo had been hoping for. Koji had no more idea what had happened after Byakuya left the captain's quarters that night than Ichigo did, but he did know where he'd been heading. To the 1st, to confront Aizen.

"I don't know exactly what he proposed to do, my lord, but he seemed certain that somehow he could clear Abarai-fukutaichō of all the charges against him. After that…" Koji shrugged, "I know only as much as you."

Ichigo thumped the side of his fist gently against the bookcase and strode over to the desk, where Koji was now sitting in the chair. "It's better than nothing," he said, sitting back down himself. "Seriously, Koji, I can't thank you enough for telling me this. And you're not betraying him by doing it either. It's obvious something went really wrong that night, and since we're pretty much the only ones in a position to help him, we need not to hold anything back from each other."

Except Ichigo had no intention of telling Koji that Renji was missing too, and that saving him had probably been what went wrong.

But where had they gone afterwards? Ichigo had people looking, specifically Karin, but Rukongai was a big place and they had to be careful not to attract Yoruichi's attention. Still, adding Renji to the mix might help. Even if his tats were ruined, he was a bit hard to miss, with that hair.

"If you can find him," Koji said suddenly.

Jerked out of his thoughts, Ichigo scrambled to remember where they were in the conversation, and then nodded. "To help him, yeah. Except that's turning out to be a pretty big if, at the moment. Rukongai's not exactly small."

"It's not my place to say, my lord," Koji said, "but if I could offer a suggestion; have you tried the living world? After all, your father fled there and flourished, so perhaps Kuchiki-sama saw the same possibility for himself?"

Fuck! That was obvious, now it'd been mentioned. Why the hell hadn't Ichigo thought of that?

Because it was a massive enough task trying to find them in Rukongai, without adding in the living world as well, that was why. And there hadn't been a scrap of evidence to suggest that was where Byakuya had gone.

Until now, and it changed everything. "You're right," Ichigo said, standing up, "We'll make it our first priority."

Koji stood as well, apparently able to tell that Ichigo wanted to get on. "After you've sorted out the money, my lord, yes?" he said, dipping a bow.

The smirk that tugged at Ichigo's mouth was one hundred percent genuine. "Second priority then," he said, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "And while I'm doing that, you can do something for me." Though it'd be as much for Koji as himself.

"I live to serve, my lord," Koji replied, deepening his bow.

"Find me a house. I'm getting fed up with sleeping in the office and with Chad now as well, we need somewhere-"

"Truly, my lord?" Koji gasped, springing upright. "You mean it?"

"Sure, why not," Ichigo said. He had the funds, even if they had been Byakuya's, so he might as well spend it on those who deserved it. "I mean, don't go mad, I'm not made of money, but we can afford something nice, I think."

"You can. I will." Koji's nose almost touched his knees. "Thank you, my lord!" Hardly unbending at all he shuffled towards the door, when he got there, he paused and looked up. "You're a good man, Shiba-sama," he said. "Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." Then he was through the door and gone.

Ichigo sat there with a goofy grin on his face for a second before shaking his head, picking up his brush, and getting back to work.

But he couldn't settle. Now Koji had put the idea of Byakuya running to the living world in Ichigo's head, he couldn't get it out. It seemed so obvious. Where else was, relatively speaking, free of Gotei spies? Rukongai sure as hell wasn't; Yoruichi proved that when she'd told Ichigo she knew about Ryūken and Uryū.

No, the living world was the obvious place to run. How he'd done it, Ichigo hadn't a clue, but if anyone could, it'd be Byakuya. He was a wiz at stuff like that. And he'd taken Renji with him, Ichigo just knew it.

So they were safe for now. Which didn't mean Ichigo was going to stop looking for them. If he'd realised where they'd gone, someone at the 2nd wouldn't be far behind, if they hadn't bought a clue already.

Maybe not as safe as he thought, then.

But how the hell was he supposed to find them?

Ichigo slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He didn't even know where to start. He needed eyes on the ground and even if he sent Karin, which was a huge fucking risk, she was just one person.

There was Chad. He might do it, after the funeral.

Or Matsumoto. No, she was 3rd now. And fuck knew what Ichimaru would do if he caught wind of this. Best to keep it in the 6th for now.

Maybe Take? She'd been willing to stick her neck out at the 10th, so maybe she'd agree to come on board with this. And she'd have the added advantage of access to a gigai. Ichigo could come up with some reason to post her to the living world for long stint, and in a gigai, she wouldn't have to keep coming home. She could travel and look for clues.

Make connections, maybe.

The chair scraped across the floor as Ichigo shoved it back. He yanked open the bottom drawer of his desk and there, tucked safely beneath the stupid formal picture of him and Renji and Byakuya at Ichigo's investiture, was what he was looking for.

Mom's lucky charm.

He always kept it close. Had done since he'd got it back off Koji. It was the only thing he had left of his former life. Everything else had burned up in the fire Renji had set to cover the murder of Ichigo and his sisters. In theory this should have burned as well, except Ichigo had been allowed to bring a couple of personal items with him. One had been Chad's coin, which Ichigo had returned to him at the arena. This had been the only other thing that meant enough to take.

And everyone who knew him, would know that. Everyone, like Tatsuki, who'd seen it loads of times in his bedroom when he was younger and would recognise it as Ichigo's straight away. If he could get word to her, and Keigo and Mizuiro, that would be three more pairs of eyes looking. Plus they could help Take, or whoever else Ichigo ended up sending.

But would it work?

Ichigo bounced the small red pouch on the palm of his hand. The charms inside rattled around, making a quiet metallic sound.

He frowned. That was odd. He'd thought the prayers were written on wood.

Before he had a chance to check, a thump came on the office door and Hisana called, "Taichō?"

Hurriedly, Ichigo tucked the pouch under the papers on his desk and said, "Come on in. Is Hanatarō there? I sent him for tea ages ago."

Hisana was smiling lightly as she pushed the door open, with her foot since she was carrying the tray of tea. That had two cups on it, and a delicious looking plate of assorted mochi.

"Wicked," Ichigo said, leaping to his feet and clearing a space so she could put it down. "I'll keep the sweets, but you can take the other cup away, unless you're staying to drink it with me."

"Would that I could, but there's someone to see you." Hisana's brows pulled down and she grimaced slightly. "Actually, I wouldn't have let her in, but you've said you'll see anyone so…" She shrugged as she lifted the lid on the pot to check the tea, "I suppose it's your funeral if she pulls out a zanpakutō and kills you."

Unlike Koji, it hadn't been hard to get Hisana to drop the formalities. When they were alone, she still tended to treat him like a slightly stupid younger brother, which Ichigo didn't mind. It made a nice change from all the bowing and scraping he got elsewhere.

"Now you've got me curious. Who is it?"

"Izumi-fukutaichō," Hisana said.

"From the 7th?" Ichigo asked, sitting back down. What could Aikawa's beautiful lieutenant want with him? Ichigo had only seen her once, up on Sōkyoku hill during Renji's punishment, and he hadn't even spoken to her.

But he had seen the way her captain pawed at her. Had she come to Ichigo to get away from him?

"That's the one." As she set out the cups and treats, Hisana gave him a bit more information. "Izumi Miyako is her full name. She's Seireitei born but from a common family. Tradesmen, I think. She's been at the 7th for about sixty years and lieutenant for just over ten. No bankai, as far as anyone knows."

Worried purple-blue eyes lifted. "Be careful, sir. She's agreed to leave her zanpakutō at the gate, but you shouldn't underestimate her. She's got excellent kidō."

Which Ichigo had fuck-all defence against. "I'll watch her," he said, patting Zangetsu, which rested in the stand within easy grabbing distance of his desk. "She'll not get the drop on me."

"She'd better not," Hisana shot back, giving the spread a critical once over before nodding. "Right, I'll bring her along, stay and pour the tea, and then Hanatarō and I will be outside during the interview, just to be on the safe side."

"Then I've got nothing to worry about," Ichigo said, meaning it. He trusted her completely. If anything happened, from an all-out attack to Ichigo screwing up some vital point of etiquette, Hisana would be there.

With a smile and a final shallow bow, she left.

Ichigo knew better than to fiddle with Hisana's preparations. Instead he ran his hands through his hair, adjusted his hakama and tugged at his haori until it was draping kind of elegantly down the sides of the chair.

When the knock came on the door, he cleared his throat and called, "Enter."

Hisana came in first, with Izumi right behind her.

Ichigo stood immediately, and as he did so, his haori snagged on the chair sending it toppling towards the floor. He dived after it with a muttered, "Fuck," and came up to the most awkward silence ever settling over the room.

Shit, they'd heard that?

Since Hisana was glaring at him like she wished he was six foot under and still digging, he guessed so. This was the 6th. The captain of the 6th didn't use language like that. Not in public.

"Sorry," Ichigo said, glancing over Hisana's shoulder to say it again to their visitor. The words died in his mouth. Izumi Miyako was even more gorgeous than Ichigo remembered.

She was tall and graceful, and wore her lustrous black hair tied at the nape of her neck. Loose tails framed her face, softening what could have been a severe style. Not that she needed to. With her heart-shaped face and clear-skin, she had all the looks of a film star.

If you ignored her eyes.

They were empty, like someone had cut her open and taken out her heart. Apologising to someone who looked like that for using bad language was pointless. Ichigo did it anyway.

"Sorry about that. Pretend you didn't hear it, eh, and we'll start again." He grinned, hoping to get some sort of acknowledgement. The look she gave him was blank.

Ichigo cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again, gesturing to the chair. "Sit, please."

That much she did do, perching on the chair with her eyes lowered and her hands clasped in her lap as Ichigo took his own seat and Hisana poured the tea. Ichigo caught Hisana's eye and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Hisana shrugged, still looking pissed with him, bowed deeply and left the room, leaving Ichigo to work out what the hell this sad woman wanted.

When about half a minute had passed without her so much as lifting her head, Ichigo took the plunge, pushed the plate of mochi towards her and said, "Why did you ask to see me?"

She ignored the sweets but did look up. "You are even more like him close to," she said, and her voice was so quiet and raspy that Ichigo found himself leaning forwards to hear her properly.

There was only one person she could mean. "I'm guessing you're talking about Kaien. Yeah, I get that a lot. We're cousins, you know."

"Oh, I know," she said, and her head did this little cock to the side thing that might have cute if it hadn't looked so damned creepy. "I know all about you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

She knew his real name. Okay, so it wasn't a huge secret. She was a fukutaichō so she probably had access to all sorts of information. But it still set off alarm bells, because the way she'd said it was pure threat.

"If you know that, then you know I go by my clan name these days," he said, shooting a glance at the door. Should he call Hisana back? No, it was too soon. Ichigo had Zangetsu, and with his ability to absorb kidō, she couldn't keep him from his zanpakutō for long.

But that didn't stop her from using her tongue to attack him. "Your clan? How can it be? Your soul is tainted, polluted. You were once human. You died. And yet you dare to sit there and call the Shiba yours? It's laughable. A joke, if it wasn't so wrong." Something fluttered behind her eyes and Izumi buried her face in her hands.

Crap, she wasn't going to cry was she? Ichigo watched her carefully for a second to see if there was any more to come before saying, "I'm sorry it upsets you. I'm not over the moon about it myself, but with Dad in prison, this was the only way to bring the clan back."

She shook her head. "This was a mistake." Muffled by her hands, her voice sounded different. Harsher. "I thought maybe if I talked to you… But no. My captain was right. I'm simply causing myself more pain."

Did she have another clan-head in mind? It sounded that way. Or maybe she was another one like Ukitake, thinking Kaien was still alive. It certainly sounded like she'd had a closer relationship to him than just friends, so maybe his death had sent her off the rails?

The hado came out of nowhere. It took the top off the desk, smacked Ichigo in the chest and sent him flying back into the wall. And then Izumi stood up.

There was something seriously, horribly, wrong with her. An orange fleshy growth surrounded her eyes and her skin had turned undead grey.

"Holy fuck," Ichigo yelped, scrambling for Zangetsu. As he went, the office door slammed open and Hisana yelled, "Bakudō number 4, Hainawa."

A yellow kidō rope snaked across the room, catching Izumi up and trapping her fast in its coils. But rather than submit, she threw her head back and laughed, in a high raucous shriek of a voice that didn't have a scrap of sanity left in it.

"Fools!" she cackled, starting to rise into the air. "Seeking to hold me with such a simple trick. Now suffer for your temerity!" There was an odd crackling sound and crimson tentacles erupted from all over her body.

Ichigo snatched up Zangetsu and flung himself towards her, but not before Hisana launched her own attack.

Hisana made contact first, zanpakutō drawn and ready. Somehow Izumi dodged the blow, dropped into an inhuman looking squat and kicked out with her foot. It caught Hisana in the gut, sending her soaring into the air. She hit the ceiling and it hardly slowed her down at all. Wood and tile crashed to the floor from the hole she left in her wake and outside, the screaming started.

"What the fuck are you?" Ichigo bellowed as he threw himself into the fray. He thought he knew. The way her eyes glowed was just like Hisagi's.

It was hollow. Or part hollow anyway. One of Aizen's sick hack-jobs. Why the hell had Izumi let that creep touch her?

"You're attacking!" the thing brayed in excitement as Ichigo danced around it, trying to get a hit in without getting launched into orbit himself. "Come, come! I'll swallow you whole!" The kidō dropped away from its torso, reishi rope vanishing into nothing before it hit the floor.

Ichigo ducked as the tentacles swarmed towards him. As they passed overhead, he swung his blade up into them, feeling flesh part beneath it.

The hollowfied Izumi screamed and suddenly Ichigo found himself caught in the most terrifying hug of his life. Arms like steel hawsers clamped round his ribs, and thighs that felt like they could crush concrete blocks let alone walnuts, gripped him round the waist pinning his arms to his sides.

Black eyes rimmed with neon orange peered into his own. "Now say goodbye," it said.

"Do… what?" Ichigo gasped. He couldn't breathe. The pressure round his chest was going to make his lungs explode. But what the hell did it mean, 'say goodbye?'

The next second, he knew exactly what it meant. In his hand, Zangetsu began to turn to dust. "Holy shit!" Okay, it could be worse, he could make another one, but for fuck's sake, this was going beyond a joke. If he wasn't who he was, that could have been serious!

Izumi howled with laughter at his shock, letting go with her arms and falling backwards at an impossible angle until her head touched the floor. Her legs stayed clamped tight around him and Ichigo could feel things crawling under her clothes. More tentacles. They squirmed up past the top of her hakama and began crawling up the front of him. They were heading for his face.

Well, screw that. Ichigo had seen enough horror movies to know that no way did he want those things anywhere near his mouth.

He dropped backwards, rolling as he landed and then twisting to get free of the hold. Years of Judo and Dad's unofficial training in hakuda payed off. Izumi's grip on him slipped. Ichigo threw her the rest of the way off, and scrambled for the far corner of the room and defensible space.

She rose to her feet in front of him, her torso limned with waving crimson tentacles. A tongue, of the same bloody hue, lolled from her mouth as she laughed and laughed. There was nothing human about her anymore.

And there was nothing Ichigo could do but end her.

The thunder of footsteps came from the corridor outside and several black clad figures appeared in the doorway, one of them third seat Koniwa. Not good. Ichigo could manifest Zangetsu again any time he wanted. The others couldn't. He couldn't risk them. Especially not the seated officers.

"Stay back!" he yelled. "Get everyone the fuck away. I've got this." Then it was about time he proved it. Gathering his reiatsu, he reached out with his index finger and cast the only kidō he felt really comfortable doing off the cuff. "Hado number 4, Byakurai!"

He couldn't aim for her head, not with the guys standing in the doorway, so the lightning caught Izumi in the shoulder, spinning her round and throwing her to the floor. But she wasn't down for long. With a snarl, she rolled to her feet and leapt at him, tentacles and limbs outstretched, ready to devour him whole.

Ichigo was caught totally flat-footed between offence and defence. He tried to dodge, but she caught his ankle, yanking him high into the air and shaking him like a dog with a rat. Ichigo thrashed in her grip, trying grab some still human part of her so he could do something, stop her somehow. But she was all tentacles, all hollow. There was nothing left to get a hold of. To hurt her, he needed Zangetsu.

She shook him again, this time whipping him into the remains of the trashed desk. Ichigo hunched his shoulders, letting them take the brunt of the damage. As he did, he shoved a small amount of reiatsu into the seals on his gloves and felt them slide off onto the floor. Finally. Now he could get his sword back.

But before he could get clear and start to manifest, a trembling voice came from the doorway, "Ye Lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings." It was Koji, gabbling through the incantation for shakkahō faster than Ichigo had ever heard it before. But it wasn't going to be fast enough.

Izumi's head spun towards him, no mean feat considering he was right behind her. Koji almost faltered, then visibly steeled himself and pressed on, "Ye who bears the name of man! Inferno and pandemonium."

The tentacle around Ichigo's leg tightened and before he could do a thing to stop it, Izumi flung him Koji's head.

He felt Koji's neck break under the impact. His voice cut off mid-word and he dropped like a stone.

Ichigo hit the doorjamb and came up fighting mad. "You fucker!" he bellowed, scrabbling to get his feet under him. It wasn't easy. There was rubbish everywhere. Paper and bits of desk and who knew what other shit.

Over the other side of the room, Izumi hunched down like a tiger readying to leap. If she did, she was going to get him again. Fuck it, he needed time to manifest.

In desperation, Ichigo grabbed a handful of rubbish, meaning to sling it in Izumi's face, maybe buy himself some time. But as his hand closed around it, something tingled against his palm.

He glanced down. In amongst the torn sheets of paper and splinters of wood, he caught a glimpse of red. The charm.

Mom.

A throb of power coursed up his arm and, between one heartbeat and the next, the rubbish was gone and Ichigo was holding a bow; plain and metallic, it glowed white like a firework on a summer night.

What the hell?

He didn't have a chance to think anything else; Izumi was on him.

Ichigo tucked back and instinctively brought the bow up into position. As he did, something appeared across the bowstring and when Izumi hit, Ichigo felt it explode.

Izumi jerked and screamed, white fire pouring from the hole in her body as she writhed away from him. Ichigo scrambled in the opposite direction, still clinging to the bow. Another shape was forming across the string. An arrow made of pure reiatsu. He fired it.

With a final aborted flail, Izumi went still. But the screaming kept on going. If anything it was getting louder.

How? Was it in his head?

No. He knew that sound, and it wasn't simple screaming.

Ichigo spun on his heel. At the other end of the corridor stood Hisana, bruised and battered, but alive. And beside her was Hanatarō, arms outstretched and head back, the folds of skin on his face vibrating as he sounded the alarm.

To tell everyone that Ichigo was using forbidden Quincy powers.

Ichigo dropped the bow like it had burned him. As it left his hands, it vanished and hit the ground as a small metallic charm in the shape of a cross. Outside, Hanatarō finally stopped screaming.

The sudden silence did nothing for Ichigo's nerves. Pulse thundering in his throat, he stumbled across the room to retrieve his gloves. It was probably too late, but he dragged them on anyway, wrapping the ties and resealing them securely. Only then did he dare pick up the cross and tuck it carefully between his kosode and shitagi. He hadn't a clue what it was, but it had to have belonged to Mom, so no way was Ichigo letting Kurotsuchi get his hands on it.

Then he turned to the rest of the mess. The others, looking a bit shell-shocked, had rejoined him. Hisana was hunkered down beside Koji and, as Ichigo watched her, she glanced up and shook her head.

Ichigo closed his eyes. It wasn't fair. Koji shouldn't have died. He wasn't even a soldier.

The pain burned hot and bright enough to make his eyes sting for a second, before settling into dull ache in his chest. When the day came, Koji's death, along with all the others, would help him forge the right weapon to destroy Aizen. And destroy him he would. That was a promise.

"Taicho! She's still alive." Koniwa stood over Izumi, zanpakutō levelled at her throat.

Ichigo hurried over. Koniwa was right. Izumi was still breathing, and all trace of the hollowfication had gone from her body. But she was dying from her injuries, her reiatsu a frail fading warmth.

Despite Koniwa's gasped warning, Ichigo dropped to his knees beside her and took her hand. Bruised-blue eyelids fluttered open and dark eyes struggled to focus. When they did, a smile of unsurpassed beauty lit her face.

"You came," she whispered, her breath loud and laboured. "I knew you would."

She thought he was Kaien. Was it better to keep letting her think that, or tell her the truth? Ichigo kept silent, unable to find the words to break her heart again.

"You should see him, my love. He's strong, just like you. And handsome. Taichō- " She coughed, blood spraying onto her lips and face. "Promised me." Another cough; deeper, wetter. "H-he promised me." She tried to breathe again and couldn't. Panic flooded her face as she strained, fighting open-mouthed and with all her damaged body to catch her breath.

"Move, or we'll lose her!" Takata's voice snapped from behind him.

Ichigo obeyed the doctor's order instinctively, scrambling out of the way as help arrived en masse. Izumi was immediately swarmed by medics, Takata at the forefront with the green glow of a healing kidō already on her hands. It wouldn't help. Ichigo could feel Izumi leaving.

Another medic hunkered down in front of him. "Are you injured, sir?" she asked, anxious eyes giving him a thorough check over.

Bruised and battered, but that was nothing new. Pity the same couldn't be said for Koji. Or Izumi, though she'd probably been past saving before she even arrived. "I'm fine," Ichigo snapped, "Check on Sagara. She's the one who was thrown through the damned roof."

The medic flushed and ducked away, leaving Ichigo to try and gather his thoughts.

This had been a fuck up from beginning to end. Izumi should never have got in to see him. Or more to the point, Ichigo should never have agreed to see her, and definitely not without proper security. This might be his division, but he was no Byakuya. He didn't have bankai, and he couldn't protect them. He was just a naive fool, and it had cost Koji his life.

And it could have cost even more. With Ichigo dead, there would have been nothing to stand between Izumi and the complete decimation of the 6th.

The only thing that had saved them was Ichigo's Quincy powers. His forbidden Quincy powers.

Ichigo's gaze cut to the doorway and the corridor beyond, where Hanatarō stood unmoving as a tide of shinigami flowed around him. His ruined face was turned towards Ichigo, but he didn't need an expression for Ichigo to know exactly what he was thinking.

This time Ichigo wasn't going to be able to bluff his way through. Sooner or later, the Gotei were going to come for him.


	6. FreeFall: Desolation Row

Renji woke to a world of pain and a strange, strangled, wheezing noise. If it had been any more rhythmic, he'd have kicked Ichigo and told him to quit jerking off when other people were trying to sleep.

Silently cursing whoever it was causing the racket, he forced his eyes open - which for the record felt like they'd been stuck together with glue - and squinted into a dim world lit by a flickering orange light.

For some reason, the wall opposite him was painted with a life-size picture of a blue demon eating a woman. Either that or they were having sex. It was difficult to tell. Not that it mattered. Off-hand, Renji couldn't think of anywhere in Seireitei where that kind of picture might turn up, which normally would have meant he was somewhere in Rukongai, except the wall looked like concrete, and he couldn't think of anywhere at all in Soul Society where they used that to build walls.

So where the hell was he? And what the fuck was that noise?

Renji rolled over, biting back a grunt of pain as his back informed him what a dumb idea that was, rolled again to get comfortable, and then forgot pretty much everything else, because the view he now had made the woman-eating blue monster look ordinary.

A smallish hollow lay about twenty feet from him, just inside the mouth of the narrow graffiti scrawled underpass he was lying in. It was limbless and had been tied to a metal bracket with rope. A tyre had been wedged between its teeth, presumably to keep it from biting anyone, and it was the hollow that was making the noise as it rocked back and forth.

And if that wasn't weird enough, beside it stood Byakuya, wearing only a thigh length shitagi and sandals without tabi, holding a sword in one hand and a flaming stick in the other.

Renji blinked in confusion. On the upside, he now knew where he was. Generically anyway, if not specifically, because tyres and underpasses, like concrete, were only found in the living world. On the other hand, he might have ended up in some kind of alternate dimension because he couldn't think of any other explanation for what he was seeing.

As he watched, Byakuya leaned towards the hollow's flank and sniffed it. He recoiled immediately, nose wrinkling in a way that Renji told himself was not adorable, and then leaned forward once again, mouth opening like he might be about to take a bite. At the very last moment, he seemed to change his mind and backed off again, instead holding the burning stick close enough to the hollow to make it squirm.

Groggily, Renji propped himself up on his elbow. The clothing that had been covering him, what looked like Byakuya's missing kosode and hakama, slid to the ground. Renji ignored them, though his bare arms pimpled with goosebumps in the cold air. He was more interested in working out what Byakuya was doing.

Was he… trying to cook the hollow? Alive?

"Taichō?" Renji called, or tried to. His voice cracked to nothing, like he'd been yelling a lot the night before. He cleared his throat and gave it another go. "Taichō, what'cha doing?"

Byakuya didn't even turn around, simply answering in a dreamy voice, "Trying to decide if this will ever be cooked enough to be palatable." A second later, his whole body froze and, "Renji?" He spun round, stick and sword both falling to the ground, staring at Renji like he really was a hungry ghost. "You're awake."

Even at the best of times, the ugly orange lighting of the deserted underpass would have done nothing for Byakuya's looks. Right now it made him look terrible. His hair was lank and greasy looking, his skin sallow with deep bruising beneath both his eyes. And the shadows made every bone on his face pop until he looked almost skeletal.

He also wasn't coming any closer. Renji shifted uncomfortably. Had he done something wrong? His back and ass definitely felt like taichō'd been mad at him. But Byakuya wasn't lecturing him either, and if there was one thing that Renji knew went with punishment, it was the endless lectures.

Plus, Byakuya had been trying to eat a hollow. That didn't sound right at all.

_What the hell?_ he asked, hoping Zabimaru might be able to shine some light on the situation.

No one answered. Not even a hissed complaint or a rumbling snore.

_Zabi? _

Starting to panic, Renji tried to drop into his inner world, and discovered that gone too. There was nothing inside except a featureless blank.

That was when he realised that although he could see Byakuya standing less than twenty feet from him, he couldn't feel him. Not even the slightest scrap of reiatsu emanated from Byakuya's body. He was blanker than the most ordinary soul in Rukongai.

The possibilities flicked through Renji's mind like pictures in a book. Was this a dream? An illusion? Had he gone mad, died? Had he fallen into the hands of the 12th and this was all the creation of a mind cracking under the strain of being dissected alive?

The image of Kurotsuchi's leering painted face leapt into the forefront of his thoughts. Renji flinched back because what came with it was memory, not imagination. The stink of formaldehyde and old blood, the sensation of metal bands around his ankles and feet, of being helpless and held down and -

"Renji? Renji!"

Byakuya's voice somehow broke through the terror. Renji found himself curled on his side, hands over his head. Hiding, from the memories. From Kurotsuchi and Urahara and all the other mad scientists who just wanted to take him apart, to see how he ticked.

Panic surged along the edges of his mind. Renji swallowed thickly and said, "Keep talking, taichō, please?" It made him sound like a wuss, but right now he didn't care. He hadn't felt this scared since… since…

"I will. I'm here, Renji, I'm not going anywhere. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm here for you."

Liar.

Another memory flashed through Renji's mind.

Shadows stretching long from the base of the scaffold on Sōkyoku Hill. The white on black of the gathered captains of the Gotei 13. Being on his knees in front of them, as sentence was handed down - Shugo, the third level of the underground prison. Zabimaru turning to nothing in his hand. The seal choking his power back into his body.

Asking Byakuya to end this torment. Begging him. Desperate.

And Byakuya turning away in disgust.

A choked sob that was half fear and half rage erupted from Renji's throat. With a snarl, he flung himself over, reaching out and grabbing Byakuya by the collar, dragging him close and shaking him as he spat words into his face. "Why! You promised. You fucking promised me that if I ever asked, you'd do it. You fucking promised!"

Byakuya hung lax in his grip, eyes cast to one side like he expected Renji to hit him. No, like he wanted Renji to hit him. Well, screw that. Renji wasn't about to give the bastard anything he wanted.

He shoved Byakuya away, not caring that he fell awkwardly onto his hands in the dirt. Or that he stayed there, unmoving, with his head down and filthy hair flopped over his face.

Why should Renji care, when Byakuya hadn't cared about him.

Except Byakuya never gave up like this. Never, in all the years that Renji had known him, had Byakuya ever let anyone handle him like that without fighting back. He was Kuchiki. He was captain. And he made sure everyone and their dog knew it.

Seeing him half-collapsed on the piss and water stained concrete, wearing nothing but his shirt… He'd been about to try and eat a hollow for fuck's sake.

"What the fuck's going on?" Renji asked. Because he had to know, and despite half wanting to wring the guy's neck, Byakuya was the only one who could tell him.

Slowly, Byakuya lifted his head, though he kept his gaze averted. "What's the last you remember," he asked quietly.

Renji thought back. After the sealing, after they'd stolen Zabi from him, what had happened then? "Being taken back to the Senzaikyū, I think," he said. "They said I was going to be transferred to Shugo that night. I…" The memories were fuzzy. "I think I might have gone to sleep?"

"I see," Byakuya replied, again adjusting his position until he was sitting seiza. Bony knees covered in scrapes and streaks of dirt stuck out from beneath his shitagi. He was thin, painfully so; it wasn't just the lighting making him look that way. And bruised. Shins and ankles. Wrists where his shirt rode up. And his skin was grey with the kind of ingrained filth Renji remembered from the camps. He looked like he'd been living rough for weeks.

Byakuya took a breath and began. "I rescued you. That was always my intention, and why I failed to kill you when you asked it of me. I would have told you, but that would have defeated the purpose.

"In the event, with a bribe to the right guard, I was able to gain access to the Senzaikyū and smuggle you out. They'd used a sleeping kidō on you and that, on top of the sealing, rendered you unconscious. You've been that way ever since."

Renji nodded along to the explanation. Byakuya might be lying, since it did kind of let him off the hook for not taking Renji's life when he'd been supposed to, but the story fitted the facts well enough. Except for one thing. "So why here? Why the living world?"

Now Byakuya lifted his eyes. They were empty and cool and completely unemotional. Taichō's eyes. Renji felt his nerves steady at the sight of them. "Where else could we go to avoid Yoruichi's spies?" Byakuya said, as though the answer was obvious.

Which, Renji guessed, it sort of was. "What about the 6th?" he asked, and then, as another thought occurred to him, "Crap! What about Ichigo? Is he okay? What happened to-"

"Ichigo," Byakuya said, his authoritative voice forcing Renji to focus, "is looking after the division. I left him in charge when I decided to come and rescue you."

Byakuya? Threw over the 6th to rescue him? Renji shook his head in disbelief. "I bet your clan are having kittens," he said, shifting his weight to take some of the pressure off his ass, which was starting to get really sore. "Their great leader pissing it all away for a gaki."

"Indeed," Byakuya said, and that seemed to be the limit of what he was prepared to say on the subject.

There had to be more, like why Byakuya wasn't wearing the kenseikan or carrying Senbonzakura, and why they were sharing one outfit and had no supplies. It didn't matter. Renji'd get the details out of him later. Right now, he was starting to flag. The energy that had fed his panic and rage was ebbing, leaving a kind of deep-seated lethargy in its wake.

He yawned, gave up trying to sit, and rolled onto his front instead, stretching his legs out behind him. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it beat sitting on whip-cuts and bruises, and at least his feet were warm since apparently he had the tabi that were missing from Byakuya's outfit. "Okay, so now I know why we're here, but seriously, taichō, you couldn't find anything better to eat than hollow steaks?"

Annoyance flashed in Byakuya's eyes. "It seemed preferable to starving, and since human food is indigestible for us, I cannot simply walk into a shop and take what we need."

"Not a shop, no," Renji replied with a shrug, "But there's got to be a shrine or two around here. Or if not, a graveyard. You know, for the offerings."

"Offerings," Byakuya said flatly.

"Sure," Renji said, "They make a great meal if you get bored with rations. Everyone knows that."

But he was speaking to thin air. Byakuya was already on his feet and picking up the sword. He disposed of the maimed hollow with a single blow and then came back over to Renji.

Holding the sword out, hilt first, he said, "Take this and stay here. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Fine, but you're wearing these," Renji replied, reaching for the hakama. He might be pissed at Byakuya, but no way was he letting his captain and the head of the Kuchiki-clan wander around without pants. Renji had some pride left in his rank.

"Out of the question, you need them to keep warm."

"I got this," Renji said, picking up the kosode with his other hand and flipping it over his shoulders. The rough cloth caught on tender skin and Renji forced himself not to flinch. "And if I get cold, I'll build a fire. There's loads of rubbish around."

"A fire that you will be unable to light."

Right, of course. Like Renji could forget the barred gate in his soul between him and Zabimaru. "So I'll freeze. You got a choice, taichō; hakama for the sword, or you're leaving me here with nothing."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed, but he reached out for the hakama. Renji handed them over and took the sword without argument. It wasn't like Byakuya couldn't defend himself with kidō if he had to.

"Whatever you see or hear, do not leave this underpass," Byakuya said, slipping the hakama on and deftly knotting the ties. "Hollows are running rampant in this city and with your reiryoku sealed, there is a limit to what you can do against them.

"Got it. And honest, I ain't stupid. I'll sit tight and wait for you to come back, taichō. Promise."

Something about what he'd said was wrong. Byakuya's shoulders stiffened, though he didn't look at Renji. Instead he stared up the tunnel towards the dark expanse of the night. "Just Byakuya," he said. "I'm not your captain any longer."

So that was what was bothering him.

Dropping the 'taichō' didn't sit well with Renji. Sure he called the captain by his given name, but that was personal, and right now Renji kind of craved the security that came with rank and position. But if that was the way Byakuya wanted it, Renji wasn't about to start a fight over it. There were tons of other subjects he could choose from, after all.

"Fine, then. Byakuya," he said. Another yawn crept up on him. Renji stifled it with the back of his hand. Damn it, he couldn't afford to sleep if he was alone. "Just get a move on or I'll end up dropping off while you're gone."

Byakuya flashed a frown over his shoulder and then turned to leave. It was going to be lonely here without him.

As Byakuya reached the open air, Renji impulsively called out after him, "Tell you what though, if you see some taiyaki, pick some up for me?"

"Cold?" Byakuya replied, stopping to look back.

"Eh, you know me, taichō. Always hungry." Except that wasn't true. Not anymore.

With Byakuya gone, the night closed in around him, full of worries and regrets. And silence. So much silence. The worst of it in Renji's head. He hadn't realised just how much he chatted to Zabimaru until now. Not deliberate conversation, just a running commentary of what was going on.

More like a litany of complaints. That's what snake-tail would've said anyway. Or something like it. Something cleverer.

Another yawn threatened to ambush him. Determined to stay awake, Renji pulled himself painfully to his feet and limped slowly, with the help of the blue demon painted wall, to the entrance of the underpass.

The night was overcast, but from here he could see the roadway at the top of the embankment. Lights sped past, reflecting off the trees, too fast and too many to count. They were beside a highway, some trick of acoustics keeping the noise to a minimum, which made the scene even stranger that it might have been.

It also meant that Renji heard the hollow when it screamed.

Craning his neck, he peered up into the night sky. Not far above him, a black shape flapped clumsily across the clouds. A flying hollow then. Renji hated them. Especially the ones that spat things at you.

This one was hunting. It must have caught the scent of a human soul and now it was quartering the area trying to find it.

Renji glanced down at the asauchi in his hand. If the hollow landed to feed, he might be able to stop it, though he wouldn't be able to perform konso on its victim. Not without reiryoku. Even so, that wouldn't stop him from giving it his best if the hollow came close enough. Byakuya could always send the soul on later when he got back.

In the event, the hollow didn't land. Gradually it moved further away, its intermittent screams getting fainter as the distance increased. As the danger receded, Renji went back to the blanket to wait for Byakuya's return.

As he got comfortable, the thought occurred to him that Byakuya hadn't known about shinigami being able to eat offerings.

Renji paused, kosode in his hands and thought about it. He'd only known because he'd been taught the ropes about surviving in the living world by his old squad leader. But Byakuya hadn't been a part of that. It had been back in the early days, when Renji's relationship with Byakuya had been more distant. Just after he'd been brought from the proving grounds and handed over to the care of the division for basic training.

Byakuya had still taken an interest in Renji's progress, but it had been limited to weekly interviews where he'd grilled Renji on what he'd learnt and told him how much he still had to do to be acceptable as a vassal and part of Byakuya's household. Or that was the way Renji remembered it anyway. In retrospect, Byakuya had probably thought of those sessions as 'pep talks', encouragement to get stronger.

Settling down on his front again with the kosode around his shoulders, Renji huffed a laugh. Encouragement, yeah. Not exactly one of Byakuya's strongest points. The guy was too proud to unbend enough for that. He expected others to reach up to him, the mighty Kuchiki lord, riding high above the rabble.

And yet here he was, in the living world, with hunger in his eyes and dirt on his skin.

What could have happened to bring the great man so low?

Renji's head dropped to rest on his folded arms and within moments, he was asleep again.


	7. Miracle Needed!

A door along the corridor slammed. Ichigo jumped, blotting the character he was writing, and tossed the brush down in disgust. For twenty four hours, Yoruichi's 'investigators' had been crawling all over the 6th, asking questions and poking around, and he was a mess. Every raised voice and heavy footstep inching him closer to running.

When they first arrived, he almost had. It would have been so easy, just dump everything and head for the living world.

Only a note from Yoruichi herself, delivered by of all things, a small black cat, had stopped him. The message had read simply, 'Stay put!' and it had been enough to make Ichigo hesitate. Because, even if he ran, even if he found Byakuya and Renji and chose exile with them, he'd never be happy, because there would still be Karin and Yuzu, and Dad, and the people he had responsibility for in the division and as head of the Shiba clan. And it went against everything he was to leave them all here, with no protection.

Not to mention Ryūken and Uryū out in Rukongai.

So, since Yoruichi had known about his uncle and cousin for over a week and hadn't lifted a finger against them, Ichigo had little choice but to trust her on this as well. Or at least that she'd make sure he wasn't handed over to Kurotsuchi or Urahara, or gods help him, Aizen, without a fight. Using the Quincy powers had been an accident. It wasn't like he was a threat to the Gotei.

Not in that way, anyhow.

When Ichigo brought Seireitei to its knees, it wouldn't be for some kind of Quincy agenda, it would be for all the ones who'd ended up under the scientist's knives, or dead before they should have been; human, Quincy and shinigami. After all, there was definitely something rotten in this state of Denmark, and to fix it someone was going to have to play god, so it might as well be him.

Fuck, that was arrogant.

Ichigo slumped back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. What the hell right did he have to say shit like that? He wasn't the Soul King, though if he ever met the guy, they'd be having words. Serious words. Like, 'What the fuck, dude?'

And all he needed to do it was allies. Renji would be on his side, he was sure of it. And even Byakuya had to see the truth of it now. If he could find them, bring them home, find some way of clearing their names…

Ichigo shoved to his feet and strode to the window, frustration boiling beneath his skin. Because right now, he couldn't do jack-shit about anything without bringing the 2nd right down on everyone's head.

For safety's sake, every one of his plans had to stay shelved until they were gone. Maybe then, he could start reaching out, use Chad or Take to build some kind of network in the living world to search for Byakuya and Renji. Possibly even set up a safe-space over there for Ryūken and Uryū, get them out of Soul Society completely. That would be good.

Ichigo's fingers drifted to the wrappings on Zangetsu's hilt and the small metal cross tucked beneath them. He should try and get this to them afterwards, too. For now though, it was safer with Zangetsu than in his clothes. If they came for Ichigo, he might get strip-searched, but they probably wouldn't touch his zanpakutō. Shinigami were odd like that.

Ichigo sighed and turned back to his desk. Who was he kidding with, 'if'. When they came for him. And they would. Accident or not, he was going to have to answer for what he'd done sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

He felt them coming across the courtyard about half an hour later.

Already on his feet, he sent Hanatarō scurrying to safety with an brusque, "Back room! Now!" The small chamber was the main reason Ichigo had chosen to move into the lieutenant's office while his own was fixed. No way was he having another Koji on his hands if could help it, and he had no idea how this was going to go down.

The main office door flew open and Ichigo caught a glimpse of the two guards out cold before Kyōraku entered, his reiatsu tight and hard like a battering ram before him. At his side, Yoruichi was a deadly flickering flame clad in a delicate amber kimono.

At the sight of them, Ichigo's hand strayed instinctively towards Zangetsu, though he wasn't stupid enough to lift the blade. He wouldn't have a chance anyway, even if he tried. Against these two, he'd be dead before he finished making the decision.

Instead, he nodded a bow and said formally, "Shihōin-dono, Kyōraku-dono, how may I help you?"

"By not being a damned fool," Kyōraku shot back, gesturing to Ichigo's hand hovering so close to Zangetsu.

Ichigo left it exactly where it was and raised his eyebrows, meeting Kyōraku's furious gaze without flinching. He should have known that Kyōraku would be pissed, after all the stuff he'd said about Ichigo's Quincy heritage before.

The stand-off between them continued for all of about two heartbeats before Yoruichi pushed past Kyōraku and said, "Stop being such a bully, Shunsui." She turned to Ichigo and continued, "You're to come with us, to the 1st."

Ichigo's stomach leapt into his throat and his grip closed on Zangetsu. Only the rising power of Kyōraku's reiatsu stayed his hand. He wasn't suicidal. Yet. "Why?"

"Because you've been called before a captains' meeting," Kyōraku snapped. "Someone has to take you in hand, boy, and since Central 46 cannot, the Gotei must."

"Opinions are split," Yoruichi explained. "Some," she glanced at Kyōraku, "would have you removed from your captaincy. Others think the circumstances justified your actions."

Kyōraku harrumphed and muttered, "Nothing justifies using those powers."

"Which would be why you're not making the decision alone," Yoruichi shot back as she sashayed over to Ichigo and slipped her arm into his, easing him away from Zangetsu. "Leave your zanpakutō here," she said quietly. "It'll be safer in the office and they won't let you in if you're armed anyway."

His fingers dragged reluctantly from Zangetsu's hilt as she guided him towards the door, but he went willingly enough. Because a captain's meeting didn't sound like a summary execution. Or another 'trial', which Ichigo had been half expecting. So maybe this was a good thing? The captains of the Gotei 13 didn't get together very often. Maybe he could use it as an opportunity to test the water, see how many might listen to reason, or be potential future allies.

If he had a chance. If they didn't just slit his throat and be done with him.

He cast a nervous glance at Kyōraku stalking along the hallway in front of them, shoulders ramrod straight and haori flapping.

Was he being dumb, following along like this without putting up a fight?

"Relax," Yoruichi said. "It'll be fine."

He blinked down at her. She was always tinier than he remembered. So much power in such a small package. But no white haori, not anymore. "Hang on," Ichigo said, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "If it's the captains who want to see me, how come you're involved? I mean, didn't you give the 2nd to Urahara?"

Yoruichi grinned up at him mischievously and gave his arm a firm squeeze. "Someone has to look out for you, boy, and who better than the head of the onmitsukidō."

* * *

Looking at what faced him, Ichigo quickly decided he was more likely to lose his division than find friends. All the captains were there, stood in a single long line. Odd numbers to one side, even on the other. Unohana was at the far end, obviously here as the captain of the 11th.

The only one missing was Ukitake. Probably a good thing if everyone else wanted to avoid being exploded if he freaked out. But the rest of them looked fit to tear Ichigo a new one. Except for Urahara, whose slumped posture and pasty-skin suggested a hangover.

Ichigo tried to feel sorry for the guy and failed. He still partly blamed Urahara for Renji getting caught during the raid on the 12th. If they'd known it was a trap, they could have taken more precautions, or something. Plus he was just a creep, period.

But Urahara wasn't the important one here. If Yoruichi was on Ichigo's side, her pet captain probably was as well. So it was the others he had to win over, and he had a couple of ideas on how to do it too, thanks to the pep talk he'd had on the way over.

Shooting a quick glance behind him at Yoruichi, Ichigo squared his shoulders and waited for the shit to hit the fan.

Unsurprisingly, it was the sōtaichō who opened proceedings. Slamming his staff into the floor, he snapped, "Well, boy, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Urahara, standing right beside him, winced at the noise and pressed a hand over bruised eyes. Yeah, hangover it was.

Ichigo bit back an unsympathetic smirk. Fixing his gaze on the sōtaichō, he played the first card in his hand. "Shiba Ichigo, sir, captain of the 6th division. Not 'boy'." Because, okay, it wasn't polite, but if there was one thing these guys respected it was strength.

Up the line from Urahara, the other new captain, Madarame, snorted and muttered, "Good fer you," earning himself a glare from Kyōraku beside him.

Ichigo added Madarame to the list in his head. That was two, maybe.

The sōtaichō was grumbling under his breath, but what came out audibly was a disgruntled, "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

Maybe there was. "First of all, I want to offer my condolences to Aikawa-taichō." Ichigo dipped a shallow bow at the huge captain with the afro. "I didn't have much of a chance to speak to her, but your lieutenant seemed like an excellent shinigami. She fought well." He'd thought about saying she was a 'nice person', but honestly, this lot would probably see that as an insult.

He must have said something right, since Aikawa actually looked in his direction, one eyebrow raised. Then his chin dipped, just slightly. Acknowledgement. It was more than Ichigo had been hoping for.

Ichigo nodded in reply and continued, "It was her determination to win that made me accidentally use the cross."

"A Quincy cross?" Kurotsuchi snapped, all his attention suddenly on Ichigo. Eyes wide and head cocking to one side, he was like a bird or… No, with those teeth, more like one of those dinosaurs from Jurassic park. A velociraptor. "Well, where is it? Show me, show me." He gestured to Ichigo; palm out, fingers grabby.

That was exactly what Ichigo expected him to say, which was why he'd hidden the cross. He shook his head and plastered a regretful expression on his face. "I don't have it. It was destroyed when I cleansed Izumi-fukutaichō."

"Cleansed?" Muguruma said, from the other end of the line. "So she was hollowfied."

According to Renji, Muguruma had been hurt during some kind of encounter with Aizen last year. Whatever had caused the injuries, it was obvious this close to, that Muguruma had been lucky to survive them.

Reddish scar tissue that still looked shiny and fragile, emerged from under his shihakushō and twisted up his neck and jaw onto his skull. Most of his hair and half his ear were missing on that side, and as he spoke, the scarring pulled in odd and painful looking ways. The damage continued lower down too, and Ichigo couldn't help noticing that the hand he had tucked into his obi was still slightly clawed.

Renji had been right. He would've been the perfect target for a captain's run. But not any more. Ichigo had a division of his own to look after. He didn't need another one.

He gave the badly scarred captain his full attention. "She was. Not that I knew she was part hollow when she arrived or, believe me, I wouldn't have let her in. I'm not totally stupid."

That earned him a lopsided grimace that might have been a smile.

Hirako's bark of laughter was nothing like as subtle. "Nah, the stupid bit was blowing her up with a Quincy arrow."

Ichigo bristled immediately. "I already said it was an accident."

"In other words, ya panicked like a little kid, and lashed out with whatever ya had ta hand." Hirako's grin was just as wide as it always was, but his eyes were as serious as poison. "There's ways ta control a hollowfication if ya try, ya know."

Like Hirako had with Hisagi? Ichigo tried to imagine Izumi in Hisagi's collar and cuffs, and couldn't wrap his brain around it. Izumi had been beautiful and graceful and, at the end, a gentle soul. Hisagi was feral. Not much more than an animal.

"Hollow or not, he used a forbidden power, so don't that mean he's for the chop?"

That was Ichimaru. Ichigo turned towards him, heart sinking. He'd been hoping that Ichimaru might be on his side, what with him being Dad's old lieutenant.

But before Ichigo had a chance to defend himself, Kyōraku cut in, "As I have been saying all along. At the very least, Shiba should be replaced as the head of a division." He gestured to Yoruichi. "There are much better alternatives than having a Quincy in a position of such power."

That got him a few nods and narrowed eyes from Hirako and Aikawa. Ichigo immediately struck them from his list of people that might be on his side. At this rate, he was going to lose the 6th. Crap, there must be something he could say that'd win them over.

"But it's not like I can use it without everyone knowing. For starters, I wear these all the time." He held up his gloved hands. "And if I do anything Quincy-ish with them off, then Hanatarō sounds the alarm."

"And Hanatarō is?" Muguruma asked.

"He's a negator," Ichigo replied. He'd forgotten that other people didn't bother to ask for names.

"Who came originally from the 8th, ain't that right." Ichimaru again.

"Yes," Ichigo confirmed, silently adding, Kyōraku lent him to me after I accidentally tried to eat his lieutenant. But crap, he couldn't say that. Forget taking the 6th, they'd have him executed.

"Hang on a minute, that little freak still belongs to Kyōraku?" Aikawa demanded.

Up and down the line, eyebrows were going up and several captains began muttering to their neighbours. The neat line broke up, each side finding someone to discuss things with, and moments later most of the captains were clustered into an gaggle. Only Unohana, the sōtaichō and Kyōraku still stood where they had been and though Unohana was as inscrutable as ever, the sōtaichō and Kyōraku were looking worried.

Ichigo overheard, "Still holds allegiance?" and, "threat to divisional autonomy," amongst other things, before Kyōraku moved towards the gathered captains, hands out in a placating gesture. "That's not important right now. Surely the crux of the matter-"

Hirako turned on him, expression furious. "Not ta you, maybe. Since yer the one doing the spying!"

"I am doing no such thing!" Kyōraku retorted, pulling himself up to his full height. "I simply loaned the negator to the boy so he could continue to perform his duties."

"So it ain't reporting to ya, any longer?" Ichimaru asked. "When Shiba put down the hollow that was tryin' ta kill him, ya little whistle-blower only told him he was breakin' the rules?"

"Enough!" The sōtaichō's staff slammed into the ground. "Kyōraku-taichō is correct. We are here to decide the fate of Shiba Ichigo, not debate the niceties of inter-divisional espionage."

He might as well not have bothered. Most of the other captains kept on arguing amongst themselves. Except for Hirako, who stalked towards the sōtaichō, flipping his haori back to reveal his zanpakutō. "And just who d'ya think ya running off at the mouth at, old man? You've got no power behind ya anymore, or are ya forgetting that?"

At his words, Madarame broke away from the main pack, moving up behind Hirako and looking like he might be interested in getting involved too. Ichigo had just enough time to really regret leaving Zangetsu behind, before Yoruichi stepped forward with a flare of reiatsu and said, "Perhaps I could suggest a compromise?"

Everyone stopped arguing to look at her. Even the sōtaichō.

Once she had everyone's attention, she said, "Let the Shiba keep his division -"

"Unthinkable!" Kyōraku bellowed. "It's far too dangerous-"

"Shut up and listen, Shunsui!" she snapped back, her reiatsu crackling like lightning around her for the briefest second.

It was enough to silence Kyōraku.

"Under my supervision," she added in a quieter voice. "This lies within the purview of the onmitsukidō anyway. And do any of you genuinely believe this kid could get past me, even if he is a Quincy?"

Ichigo didn't think so. From the looks of the other captains, they didn't either.

Nor did they look totally happy with Yoruichi's proposal. "This supervision," Madarame said, strutting forward, chest out and hand on his zanpakutō. "That gonna include, say, helping him out if anyone does a run on the 6th?"

That created a chain reaction almost as loud as Ichimaru's comment about Hanatarō.

Yoruichi gave them a second to shout it out and then stamped her foot on the floor. The boards beneath it cracked like a pistol shot, and yet again everyone shut up. "I'm not in the business of taking sides," she said. "If someone comes, and he can't defend his division, then he dies, like any other Gotei captain."

Why everyone believed her when she just upped and said it, Ichigo didn't know, but they did. Instead of arguing, the captains were now all nodding and generally looking happy with the idea, except for Kyōraku who had drawn away to one side, expression thunderous.

Even the sōtaichō appeared to be giving it some serious thought. Or at least watching the others with clever beady eyes. After a moment or two he said, "There seems to be some support for your proposal, Shihōin, so we shall put it to the test. All those in favour?"

They were going to vote on it? Ichigo boggled at finding something so democratic at the heart of the Gotei.

No one else seemed to find it surprising. One after another, and in no particular order, the captains stepped forward and called 'yey' or 'nay'. It was close, coming down to the wire in a three way split between those in favour, those against and three abstentions.

Ironically, it was left to Aikawa to cast the final vote. He took his time about it as well, rubbing a thick finger up and down the side of his nose as he stared at the floor. Finally, after a couple of cat calls and a shove in the back from Hirako, he lifted his head and looked straight at Ichigo, eyes narrowing. "I vote, yey," he said, and then over the ensuing noise, "but I want you," The finger was now levelled at Ichigo, "to go speak to your cousin - the pretty, loud, married one - about Izumi. It's important."

Kūkaku? Whatever. Ichigo had been thinking about asking around about Izumi anyway. He owed her that much, and if it meant keeping the 6th, he'd pretty much do anything.

Nodding a bow at Aikawa, he said, "I promise."

Aikawa nodded back. "Good. Come and see me afterwards, if you're inclined."

And that seemed to be that. The sōtaichō thumped the ground a couple of times, but within a couple of minutes, the meeting wound up and everyone started to drift off.

Unohana lingered. On her way out, she paused next to Ichigo and said, "Your sister was asking after you. Come and see her this afternoon, if you have time."

It was one of her 'suggestions' that she expected to have obeyed. Ichigo wasn't stupid enough to ignore the Kenpachi, so he nodded a bow and said, "Tell Yuzu I'm looking forward to it, thanks."

She nodded back and continued serenely on her way. Ichigo watched her go nervously.

"You're right to be scared," said Yoruichi from beside him.

He glanced down. "She's a scary woman."

Yoruichi laughed. "Not Unohana. At least not for the moment. It's the others."

Ichigo frowned at the rapidly emptying room. "Them, I don't get. They're just gonna leave this all up to you? Doesn't anyone want details about how you're gonna watch me?"

She shrugged, slipped her arm through his again and started towards the door. "They don't care, and that's where your problem lies." Amber eyes gave him a frank look. "You admitted that Izumi nearly got you, and the only way you could beat her was with a Quincy weapon."

"Yeah, so?" There was nothing new in that, was there?

Yoruichi huffed, "Now they all know you still don't have bankai, idiot boy! And you told them the weapon was gone. You're a sitting duck."

Ichigo stopped in his tracks. Shit! He hadn't thought of it that way. When he'd come up with his plan, he'd only been thinking about how to get specific captains on side, not the implications of them getting more information. "What am I gonna do?" He had to do something or they were going to be queueing up across Seireitei to do runs on the 6th.

"You," Yoruichi said, "are going to talk to Kisuke."

"No." Ichigo started unwinding her hand from his arm. "With all due respect, Yoruichi-san, I don't trust Urahara Kisuke as far as I could throw him."

She laughed. "Yeah, well, that's the least stupid thing you've said all day. Even so, if you want to hold the 6th for Byakuya and Abarai, you're going to need him."

That was hitting below the belt. Ichigo gave up fighting her off. "So what's he got that's so magical?"

"You'll just have to ask him."

* * *

"There we go, home all safe and sound." With a pat on the arm, Yoruichi released him.

She'd hung on like a limpet all the way back to the 6th, smiling and chatting away about totally inconsequential things. Which in retrospect probably meant she'd been pumping him for information, because Yoruichi was onmitsukidō and so nothing she did or said was unplanned.

At this point, Ichigo was beyond caring. He was home, the meeting was over, and the fall-out hadn't been too horrific. Now the gates to the 6th rose in front him, firmly closed and barred against intruders, which meant the investigators must be gone. He almost felt a twinge of hope that his life could return to what passed as normal.

If he ignored the other shit. Like boatloads of wanna-be's laying siege to the division hoping to snap up an easy captaincy. And the fact that he was going to have Yoruichi's company on a semi-permanent basis. Joy. That was going to put a serious crimp in his plans to start scouring the living world for Byakuya and Renji.

He sighed and lifted his hand to thump the gate. It opened before he had the chance, revealing Hisana on the other side, her expression overwhelmingly relieved.

"Taichō," she said, bowing deeply and handing over Zangetsu. "Good to see you back."

She must have been about to go out looking. "Good to be back," Ichigo replied, taking his zanpakutō from her with a feeling of utter relief at having it back in his hand. He slung it over his back. "Tea for two, please. And lunch maybe?" Food would be good. Too much stress meant he'd not eaten much over the last couple of days and now he was starving.

He stood to one side so Yoruichi could enter first, but rather than go in, Yoruichi waved him off, turning to leave. "Don't bother, I'm not coming in."

"But… " Ichigo said. "What about, you know, guarding me and stuff?" Because seriously if she screwed this up and he ended up having to go through it all again, he might just stab someone.

She shot him a wicked smirk back over her shoulder. "Oh, I'll keeping an eye on you, boy, but I wouldn't be much of a ninja if you caught me doing it, now would I." And with that she stepped into shunpo and vanished.

Ichigo tried to track her and found nothing. Damn the woman was fast. And sneaky. If he had to have someone watching him, there were definitely worse options.

Except that she wanted him to speak to Urahara, and Ichigo could think of a million and one things he'd rather do than ask that creep for help a second time.

Since he didn't have company, Ichigo headed straight to the mess for lunch instead of eating in his office. There, busily shovelling noodles into his mouth, he read slowly through the new set of rotas Hisana had given him to check over. They were supposed to help spread the workload across all the squads but Ichigo wasn't so sure. If he was reading them right then it still looked to him like some squads were getting the shitty end of the stick.

Someone put a tray down on the table beside him and Ichigo's chopsticks paused on the way to his mouth.

In Ichigo's experience, people didn't join the captain for lunch, and if the captain was naive enough to join them, they just sat in stunned silence before grabbing their stuff and running off the moment it was polite to do so. There was a reason Ichigo brought work to read while he ate.

A quick glance up explained everything. It was Chad.

After the morning he'd had, Ichigo was half-inclined to leap up and give the big guy a hug. It was so damned good to see someone who wasn't trying to kill him, interrogate him, or get on his good side for fun and profit. Thankfully, saner parts prevailed. Ichigo simply raised his chopsticks in salute and said, "Yo."

Chad nodded back and sat down, dragging the chair in behind him. Silently and methodically, he removed his bowl of noodles from the tray, added an egg to the greasy-looking broth and gave it a stir with chopsticks that looked like they'd been hacked from the tree outside.

Ichigo looked down at his own bowl, topped with lean pieces of pork and sliced green onion, at the smooth, beautifully lacquered chopsticks in his hand, and then around the mess at the other shinigami. Without exception, their food and utensils resembled Chad's more closely than his own.

Ichigo's appetite vanished.

Placing his chopsticks on the table, Ichigo picked up his bowl and stood up. "Be right back," he said, before heading towards the kitchens.

Silence moved ahead of him in a wave. By the time he reached the serving space, you could've heard a pin drop in the mess and the cooking staff were waiting for him in a line of lowered heads.

Ichigo put his bowl on the counter and said, "I'll have a portion of what everyone else is eating."

The head cook, a gangly guy in a green cotton kimono with a white cloth wrapped around his hair, gawped up at him for a moment before recovering his manners, bobbing a few frantic bows and sending his helpers scurrying off to fill the order. When the bowl returned, it contained only noodles and broth, though the nervous woman who handed it over also offered Ichigo an egg.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from her before addressing the head cook again. "In future, I expect the entire division to be served the same rations. We don't play favourites in the 6th."

The man shuddered and dipped into the deepest bow yet. "As Shiba-taichō commands," he murmured.

It might have been fresh food, but Ichigo didn't feel like eating it. Back at the table, he forced a few mouthfuls down, listening as the volume of chatter around them slowly returned to normal. Too soon though, he pushed the bowl away, muttering an eloquent, "Fuck."

Chad raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Ichigo said, and shoved up out of his seat. He didn't feel like trying to explain to Chad why he was such a sucking failure as a captain. "Look, I'll see you later. Drop by the office, we can talk."

"It's this afternoon," Chad said by way of reply.

It took Ichigo a couple of moments to work out what he was talking about. Jackie's funeral. Crap! With all the rest of the shit going down, he'd completely forgotten about that. "Where. What time?"

"Four, at the cremation ground."

"Right." He could do that. Except he'd promised to go and see Yuzu this afternoon, and it was already gone one.

Shit.

He couldn't let Chad down again.

Leaning over and tapping his knuckles against the table, Ichigo made it a promise. "I'll see you there." He just have to fit both in. Somehow.

But before he left, there was one more call he should make. Nodding to the shinigami ducking out of his path, Ichigo hurried towards to the lieutenant's office. He got as far as the end of the office corridor before his feet refused to take him any further.

Up there, the other side of that door, Hanatarō would be waiting for him. Over the past few weeks, he'd come to think of the negator as a friend. Maybe even like a little brother. But after this morning, the idea of seeing him made Ichigo jumpy.

Could he be spying for Kyōraku?

If he was, it wasn't voluntary, Ichigo was a hundred percent positive on that. He'd only be doing it because he thought he didn't have choice. The trouble was, Hanatarō not being given a choice was a huge possibility given the way things in Seireitei went.

Plus Kyōraku didn't trust Ichigo, he'd made that very clear this morning. And he hadn't denied that Hanatarō was still working for him.

So, much as Ichigo hated having second thoughts about his friends, he was having them now.

He should speak to the little guy. Tell him that whatever Kyōraku was holding him over him, now he was at the 6th, it didn't matter. Ichigo would protect him. He'd adopt him into the Shiba clan if that was what it took. It was as good a way of repopulating the clan as any. Fuck knew, Ichigo couldn't do it all himself.

But if Ichigo was going to see Yuzu and still get to Jackie's funeral, he didn't have time to speak to Hanatarō right now. Which left him with a bit of a problem. Did that rule about leaving 6th division grounds still hold?

According to the original arrangement, Hanatarō was supposed to tag along every time Ichigo went out, but the sōtaichō sure as shit hadn't been looking for him at the meeting, and neither Kyōraku nor Yoruichi had insisted that he come along when they dragged Ichigo off with them this morning.

So did that mean Ichigo could go out alone now?

He honestly had no idea.

As he was standing there, trying to make up his mind whether to take the risk or not, a familiar looking black cat trotted up the steps and wound itself round and round Ichigo's ankles. When it didn't seem to have any messages for him this time, Ichigo pushed it away gently with his foot.

The cat collapsed bonelessly onto its side, mewing hopefully and waved its paws. Obediently, Ichigo hunkered down to provide the expected belly rub and predictably, after about two seconds, the cat grabbed his hand with all four feet and started to gnaw on his knuckles.

"You a ninja cat?" he asked, rolling it around a bit, play-fighting, and getting clawed for his trouble. It really did look like the one that had brought Yoruichi's message. Some kind of mascot, maybe? "How about I take you with me? Will that be enough for the old man do you think?"

With a loud meow, the cat rolled to its feet and stalked off down the corridor, its tail held high. It was heading away from the lieutenant's office. Choosing to take it as a sign, Ichigo followed, only looking back once. He'd chat to Hanatarō later, when he had more time.

The cat stayed with him most of the way to the 4th, alternating between trying to trip him up and riding on his shoulder when he went into shunpo. It was almost enough to take his mind off whoever was following him. Probably Yoruichi, and if it was her, Ichigo was going to tell her exactly how much her ninja-ing skills sucked, because he'd felt her watching him from the moment he set foot outside division grounds. Not much of a presence, just an awareness in the background, a little niggle that made the hackles on the back of Ichigo's neck stand on end.

When he arrived at the 4th, he left his escort with the gate guard and headed towards the hospital buildings. Byakuya would probably think he was dumb for going in alone, but it was a well-known fact that Unohana kicked anyone's ass who started trouble on her wards, so Ichigo always reckoned he was safe enough.

Yuzu was in her usual place, sat behind a desk in the little office adjacent to the storeroom.

Without letting her know he was there, Ichigo peered round the door to watch her for a few moments. He'd not seen her since that farce of a hearing up on Sōkyoku Hill a week ago now, when she'd testified that Renji had tried to kill Byakuya. Ichigo still didn't know how Aizen had convinced her all of that was true, but one day he'd find out, and then he'd kick Aizen's ass all the way to the living world and back.

For now, he just needed to make sure his little sister was as safe as possible, and ironically that mostly meant staying away from her. The sooner everyone forgot she was related to Ichigo, the better.

Today, she seemed to be copying information from a stack of papers into a thick book, and her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as she worked. Ichigo felt his own mouth twitch into a faint smile at the sight of her. She looked good. A bit pale, but happy.

"Hey, squirt," he said, finally pushing the door open properly and walking in.

Yuzu leapt up with a massive grin and threw herself at him. "Nii-chan! You came!"

Ichigo caught her and swung her round. Of the twins, Yuzu had always been the huggier one, and coming to Soul Society had just made her worse. Or maybe he meant better, Ichigo thought, closing his eyes and burying his nose in clean-smelling hair.

The hug lasted just long enough to calm Ichigo's nerves before Yuzu shoved him away, saying, "You're not eating properly again. I can feel your ribs."

"That's because the cooking at the mess sucks compared to yours," Ichigo replied, reaching out and ruffling her hair. He didn't have to reach down half as far as he used to. She was catching up with Karin.

"Then you should come here more often," she said, wrapping her arm around his just like Yoruichi had earlier and smiling up at him. "I often cook for Tsukishima-sensei."

Yuzu's boss. Another one who'd given evidence against Renji that day up on the hill. Ichigo didn't know the guy well, but he'd seemed okay, considering, and if Yuzu liked him then that was good enough. "I see how it is. Now you've got someone new in your life, you don't care about your big brother any more."

Damn it, he was starting to sound like dad. He'd have to watch that around Karin or she'd call him on it. Yuzu didn't seem to care. Her grin just got wider and happier and she hugged his arm hard before dragging him towards the door.

"Tell me you have more than an hour, this time. I have plans. Remember that garden I was telling you about?"

Listening to her chatter, Ichigo let himself get dragged down the corridor towards Unohana's office. This was always part of their routine. Unohana liked to know when Ichigo was around, and Yuzu had to get permission to go off duty anyway.

Stopping outside, Yuzu bounced on her toes and grinned up at Ichigo before knocking at the door.

"Enter!" Unohana called.

As always, Ichigo went in first, and as he closed the door behind them, Aizen's voice came from the other side of the room, "Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."


	8. Lessons for Liberty

The priests wanted to light the pyre. Tugging the collar on his heavy winter haori higher, Yasutora glanced back at the small group of mourners, hoping rather than expecting to catch a glimpse of bright orange hair. But the only splash of colour came from the blue of Shin's coat, bright and garish against the frozen grass and gravel drabness of the cremation ground.

Standing a calculated distance away from Shin, and all dressed in respectable black, what remained of Koji's family clustered together, their combined breaths creating a small cloud of steam that hung in front of them in the frosty air.

Everyone was waiting, and it didn't look like Ichigo was going to make it in time. Yasutora tried not to be disappointed. Ichigo obviously had huge responsibilities these days with his division and clan. Making time to come to the funeral of a woman he hadn't even met was probably asking too much.

Yet Ichigo had promised, and Yasutora believed in Ichigo's promises, because Ichigo always kept them.

Not this time, it seemed.

After one last look, he turned back to the officiating priest, with his strange white robes and covered face, and nodded. He was ready.

An assistant hurried over with a smaller version of the torches the priests were carrying. As he handed it to Yasutora, he bowed and said quietly, "Just stick it into the bottom somewhere, sir. It's all done with kidō anyway."

That was kind of a relief. At least he couldn't screw this up.

The flame smelt strongly of incense and radiated heat as Yasutora trod slowly forwards to do Jackie this final service.

When they said it was going to be a cremation, Yasutora hadn't been expecting it to be so primitive and all open to the air. But at least he wouldn't have to watch the flames take her. The pyre was too tall for that, higher than his head, and constructed from wood and straw. Jackie's body, surrounded by offerings and dressed in the kind of formal clothing she'd never have been allowed to wear while she was alive, lay on the very top, out of sight. Once lit, the whole thing was going to burn fast and hot. And then she'd be gone.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, placing one hand on the wooden frame and bending his head. He didn't cry. He didn't think he had any tears left after all that had fallen since she…

His hand fisted against the wood.

It had always been her. She'd always been the one to get stuck in. From the very first, he known that about her. If she hadn't stepped up that day to help a guy too stupid to realise he was walking into trouble, she never would have been caught. Never would have been sold on to the shinigami, wouldn't have lived out the last few years of her existence here as a slave.

This time when he spoke, Yasutora's voice was loud enough to carry right to the top. "I'm sorry. I let you down. It should have been me."

He shuffled back a little to give himself some space, and as he went to plunge the torch into the loosely packed straw, a rush of displaced air moved beside him. The torch was swinging up towards the potential attacker before Yasutora even registered there was someone actually there.

It never made contact. Instead a solid grip slapped down around his forearm and a familiar voice said, "Chill dude. You'll take someone's eye out flailing around like that."

Black and white clothing, hair brighter than the flame burning between them.

Yasutora felt something in his gut unwind at the sight of his best friend. His faith hadn't been misplaced; Ichigo was here.

They shared a nod across the flaring torch and then Ichigo stepped back. Yasutora turned and plunged the torch into the straw. At the same moment, half a dozen priests thrust theirs in as well, all around the bottom of the pyre. Yasutora felt a surge of reiatsu and took several hasty steps back as the fire quickly caught.

Ichigo was there waiting for him with a simple hand on the shoulder, and together they stood and watched the kidō-fanned flames roar to life. Heat came with them, a wall of it that did nothing to warm the chill inside.

Yasutora briefly bowed his head again, offering up a prayer to any god that might be listening. He wasn't religious himself and if Jackie had been, it was yet another thing she'd kept private. There was so much he hadn't known, so much now he wished he did, but this he could do for her.

Keep her safe. Hold her close until she's ready to fly, and then let her soar.

As though in answer, when Yasutora raised his head, dark smoke had begun to curl into the pale sky from the very top of the pyre. He watched it rise, higher and higher, escaping from everything earthbound, and his heart swelled in sadness and joy. She was gone. Finally free.

A part of him felt like singing. The rest still wanted to cry.

"Sorry I missed stuff," Ichigo said in a low voice beside him.

"No problem," Yasutora shrugged, eyes still fixed on the dispersing smoke. There hadn't been much to miss. No prayers or promises of eternal life like at Abuelo's funeral. Not even any sutras. And nothing personal.

Given that Jackie's identity was supposed to be a secret, Yasutora couldn't have told them anything anyway, but the priests hadn't even asked. Their focus had been on what was being sent with her and how it rich it was.

Stupidly, was the answer to that. Clothing, jewelry, food, furniture. Yasutora guessed the idea was to make sure Jackie got a decent start in her next life, but it seemed like a waste to him. Whatever they thought they were sending with her, she was going to be reborn as a baby. Small and vulnerable and fragile. A dozen silk kimono weren't going to help her deal with the sort of crap the modern world was going to throw at her.

A world full of humans who, compared to these guys, led lives that only lasted for a moment. How could they understand any of it? They were dead. Most of them had always been dead. They didn't know anything else.

And Jackie was going to be alive again.

Bless her in her new life. Let her be happy.

One of them should be. Not trapped in this mockery of a half-life in the land of the dead.

"I guess she was important to you," Ichigo said after a minute or two, jerking Yasutora out of his increasingly morose reverie. He sounded nervous when he added, "Were you two… y'know?"

Was Jackie his girlfriend? Yasutora shook his head. No. In the beginning, there hadn't been time for anything but survival, and afterwards? Jackie hadn't seemed interested in anyone like that. He'd wondered maybe if she preferred girls, but Yasutora had never seen her looking at them either, and they were always around, making eyes at the fighters. Or, like the men, buying them for an hour or two of personal time.

If Jackie had asked, then probably. She was beautiful in her own contained powerful way. Her form as she moved, her grace and strength, all made Yasutora's blood pound in his veins. He wouldn't have had any trouble loving her, but she'd never said, and so neither had he, and now it was too late.

Too late for anything, except memories.

They crept back and stole him away, pulling him back to times both happier and much more terrible. It wasn't until sometime later that a sense of empty space beside him alerted Yasutora to Ichigo having moved.

When he looked around, he found almost all the priests gone and Ichigo over with Shin and Koji's family, talking quietly with them. All were bowing to Ichigo in that overly respectful way that some people in Seireitei had, especially towards nobles.

To give him credit, Ichigo seemed to be trying to get them to stop. It wouldn't happen. From what Yasutora had gathered during his mercifully brief contact with her over the past few days, not even Ichigo could make Koji Moyu change her behaviour around those she regarded as her superiors.

With a lingering look back at the pyre, which… he must have been out of it for longer than he thought given how far the thing had burned down, Yasutora went over to join them. Ichigo greeted him with a nod and said, "So apparently there's food."

Yasutora grunted a quiet acknowledgement, which wasn't enough for Moyu.

She added pointedly, "A feast, my lord, in keeping with the deceased's status."

"I'm sure it'll be great, but seriously are you sure you should be doing all this? I mean…" Ichigo seemed to run out of words.

Moyu had no such problems. Straightening, she kept her eyes respectfully lowered as she said, "It has been my family's privilege to serve the Kuchiki for almost three hundred years, my lord. I will mourn my husband when the time is right. Meanwhile, we," she gestured back at her daughter, Rami, and son-in-law, Unshō, both still bowing deeply behind her, "are quite capable of assuming his duties."

"Eh," Ichigo said, his gaze flicking from Moyu to Shin, who was standing off to one side, and back again. "I kind of expected Shin would take over from Koji?"

Yasutora could see that Moyu was biting back a rude comment at Ichigo's assumption. That was the other thing about her that he'd had picked up; She might have respect for those above her, but she had none for those she considered beneath her. And Shin, being from outside the wall and a Gotei 13 deserter, definitely fit the bill in Moyu's eyes.

She was politer around Yasutora. Apparently being Shiba-sama's friend bought him a free pass to respectability or something.

Manners eventually won out over prejudice and Moyu restricted herself to a bowed, "It will be as my lord wishes."

"Good, that's settled then," Ichigo replied, apparently oblivious to any undercurrent.

Up until that point, Shin had kept his head down. But as Ichigo spoke, Shin's eyes rose and he shot a worried look first at Moyu and then over at Yasutora. He wanted help.

Instinct demanded Yasutora ignore him. The last thing he wanted right now was someone else relying on him for protection. He'd just buried the last person who'd done that, which showed what a great job he'd made of it.

But Shin was determined. Since the run-in with Takata at the infirmary, he'd attached himself to Yasutora like a leech. Always there, running errands or showing Yasutora around the division, keeping him company as he sat vigil over Jackie's body. He was like the stray cats that hung out in the alley behind Yasutora's old apartment block, and Yasutora hadn't been able to say no to them either.

He closed his eyes briefly, before nodding a short acknowledgement at Shin. It wasn't a choice, not really. Jackie might be dead, but Yasutora wasn't, and he couldn't cut himself off from everyone else. Jackie would call him a coward if he tried to do something as stupid as that. Plus there was Ichigo. And Shin was part of Ichigo's life now, so looking out for him was like looking out for Ichigo.

All Yasutora could do was hope he didn't screw this up as badly as he had Jackie.

One of the priests had peeled off from the crowd and was heading in their direction. As Ichigo turned to greet him, a flash of pain crossed Ichigo's face and he rubbed at his left elbow and forearm.

The action had Yasutora's immediate attention. Ichigo could be dumb about injuries. Once he'd nursed cracked ribs for a week without telling anyone just to save face. Was this the same? Was it why he'd turned up late?

"Shiba-sama," the priest was saying, bowing low. "I'm pleased to tell you that the ceremony is complete. The deceased has been sent on successfully."

"Great, thanks. So, erm, how long we've got?" Ichigo asked, grimacing as he rubbed at his inner elbow. Yasutora couldn't demand details right now, but he definitely needed to later. That wasn't right.

"Until…?" the priest queried.

"My lord may take as much time as he wishes over his food," Moyu put in.

Shaking out his arm, Ichigo replied, "The food, yeah, great. But no, I meant before we've got to be back, for the bones?" He made a chopsticks motion with his hand.

He meant picking over the bones and placing them in the urn after the body was cremated. Yasutora had heard about it, though he'd never seen it or been part of it himself.

Apparently it wasn't familiar in Seireitei either. The priest was looking horrified and Moyu was staring at Ichigo uncomprehendingly. A second later she seemed to realise what she was doing and, blushing scarlet, shot a panicky look back at her daughter and son-in-law.

It was her daughter, Rami, who stepped forward. She looked pale and her hands were shaking as she bowed deeply and explained, "There are no bones here in Soul Society, my lord, as there is no physical body to be separated from the spiritual."

Ichigo frowned. "No ashes? So, what gets buried?"

"Nothing, my lord. For those from Rukongai, the name on a gravemarker functions simply as a reminder of the loved one now returned to the ever-flowing river of souls, nothing more."

Ichigo still looked doubtful. "It just seems odd. I mean, that was dad's business, you know. And not burying anything feels disrespectful."

Rami exchanged a worried glance with her mother, who continued, "My daughter is also well-versed in these matters, Shiba-sama. Her first husband was a priest who carried out many such funerals."

"Yes," Rami nodded. "He also made a study of human traditions of death, so I'm familiar with some of their practises as well. You will find similarities, but also many differences. After all, death doesn't mean the same to us as it does to them."

"Okay, if you're sure," Ichigo said with a nod, and turned back to the priest, who was staring at him in blank horror. "I guess we're done then. Sorry I missed so much, but I got hung up visiting my sister."

If Yasutora had ever needed a reminder of the way those born in Seireitei regarded themselves as a totally different species from everyone outside the wall, he didn't have to look any further than the attitudes of the people gathered here. Us and them, Rami had said, and going by the expression on the priest's face, Ichigo had just outed himself pretty spectacularly as one of 'them': a dead human soul.

Not that Ichigo probably cared. Just like he hadn't cared back in Karakura if people thought he was a delinquent. What counted was what you did, not what you were, and so long as you stood up for the little guy against the bullies, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

The trouble was, if Shin's reaction the other day was anything to go by, discovering that the new head of the Shiba clan wasn't as pure as he should be was likely to upset a whole lot of people, to the point that they might start gunning for Ichigo himself. That was unacceptable. The priest would have to be shut down.

They couldn't kill the guy, that would be wrong. He could probably be bought off though. But not by Ichigo himself. Yasutora had seen how these things worked and there would have to be a third party.

While Ichigo was talking to the priest, whose face seemed set in an expression of revolted panic, Yasutora sidled a couple of steps sideways, stooped down, and whispered into Moyu's ear. "You know this could be trouble. Whatever it costs to keep him quiet, pay it."

She froze for a second before narrowed eyes shot a quick look from the priest to Ichigo, and then up at Yasutora. Her hand drifted from her obi to her greying hair, and the pins and combs holding it in place. She seemed to be thinking about it. After a moment she asked, "You'll explain to Shiba-sama?"

Yasutora nodded. He'd handle it, and the fall out from Ichigo's temper when he got mad. Which he would, because he'd see it as hush money.

Moyu lifted her chin. "Then it will be my pleasure to serve. Yasutora-san, if you would be so kind as to escort Shiba-sama to the feast."

It didn't take much effort to get Ichigo moving. Yasutora waited for a slight pause in the already stilted conversation and said, "Food's waiting."

With a final flurry of thanks, and bows from the priest who seemed to have finally remembered who he was talking to, they left. Rami's husband led the way, out of the cremation grounds and down a steep, rocky path that wound through stands of ancient moss-hung pines towards a structure at the bottom of the hill that looked a bit like a teahouse. Down here, the air smelt of trees and imminent snow rather than smoke and Yasutora found himself breathing it in, trying to clear his head.

As they walked, he'd automatically taken up position slightly behind and to the left of Ichigo. That was his usual place, so he could watch Ichigo's back, and Yasutora felt comfortable being there, though apparently it'd terrified Keigo the first time he'd seen them. He reckoned it made them look like a Yakuza boss and his thug.

Ichigo's thug. Not exactly the way Yasutora would choose to be remembered, but there were worse things, he guessed. At least Ichigo's instincts were always good. Even if his awareness sucked at times.

He was rubbing his arm again. Taking one longer stride to catch up, Yasutora nodded at the arm and said, "What'd you do?"

Ichigo glanced up at him and then back down at his arm as if he only now realised it was bothering him. "This? Unohana-taichō happened, that's what." He grimaced. "I went to see Yuzu and she blind-sided me with a surprise medical. The woman is freaking evil incarnate with a needle."

He tugged his sleeve up and ow! The bruising wasn't all the way out yet, but it was colouring up from mid-forearm to well above the elbow. If it weren't for the needle-mark, Yasutora would have said it came from a weapon of some kind.

"I thought she was a doctor," he said, catching Ichigo's arm and turning it to get a better look.

"Yeah, she is." Ichigo peered down at it, nose wrinkling. "You would've thought she'd have healed it right up, but no. Maybe I did something to piss her off." He pulled his arm back and was tugging the sleeve back down when a scream rang out behind them.

It was high and loud and sounded like an animal. It wasn't. Yasutora had heard it often enough to know exactly what it was. A person, injured so badly that reason fled because all that was left was pain and fear.

He was moving before he fully registered the noise, but was still way slower than Ichigo. He was gone already, and from the yelling that followed the scream, was already back at the cremation grounds.

Using reiatsu to give his feet a boost of speed, Yasutora went after him, emerging onto the plateau several seconds later to total chaos.

It was centred over the far side of the cremation grounds, near the tent where the funeral ceremony had taken place. A handful of priests were clustered around something and everyone seemed to be yelling.

What the hell had happened? They'd only left a couple of minutes ago.

As he drew closer Yasutora realised it was Ichigo that was crouched in the middle of the group, who seemed hellbent on getting their hands on someone on the ground. Whoever it was, Ichigo was over them with his sword out, yelling something back at the priests.

Yasutora's feet slowed. He knew exactly who it was Ichigo was protecting, and why.

Numbly, he searched for the other body, and there it was, white-clad and unmoving, lying on the other side of Ichigo, and surrounded by even more priests.

His eyes returned to Moyu. Ichigo had his hand clamped around her neck, trying to close the gash, but even from this distance, Yasutora could see it. The blood. Bright scarlet arterial blood, spattered over Ichigo's haori, up his face, all over his hair. She was lying in a pool of it, a slowly spreading pool.

A memory, of pale hands fluttering from obi to hair, of a knife-sharp gaze and a voice as it said, "You'll explain to Shiba-sama?"

How couldn't he have seen what she intended to do? And why had she done it?

His own words came back to him then; "Whatever it costs to keep him quiet."

Fuck.

This was all his fault.

"Chad! Oi, Chad!"

Ichigo needed him.

Yasutora tried to get his brain to focus. He should be on this. After his time in the pits, it should be second nature to him. But all he could see was the blood, all he could smell. His hands were sticky with it. His clothing clinging. And Jackie's body weighed heavy in his arms.

Somewhere in the background, he heard Ichigo yelling, "Don't just fucking stand there, come and help - ah, shit! Shin!"

He was letting everyone down. He'd let her down. He'd let her die.

He turned and ran.

* * *

Fucking shitstorms just wouldn't stop happening.

Ichigo grabbed Shin's hand and shoved it where his had been a second ago around Moyu's neck. "If you're gonna puke, do it in the opposite direction. Just keep the pressure on!" he snapped, getting himself behind her and hauling her upright.

Shin yelped as Moyu slumped forwards onto him, a dead weight probably, but Ichigo couldn't bring himself to stop trying completely. Not when the priests were still baying for her to be handed over to them.

Snatching up Zangetsu, Ichigo rose to his feet and turned on them. "Which one of you fuckers slit her throat?" he demanded, levelling his blade at them. Because, okay, so Moyu seemed to have killed one of theirs - and why? Why the hell had she done that? - but that was no reason for them to kill her back. Had no one in Soul Society heard of due process?

Okay, stupid question. But still.

The priests, cowards that they were, scurried away out of reach.

Not so mouthy now he was on his feet, were they. Ichigo snarled in disgust, lunged and caught one of them by the front of the robes. Holding him up so his feet were off the floor, he growled, "Tell me, or I'll slice your throat open too."

Wide-terrified eyes stared at Ichigo from above the face covering. "I didn't- We didn't-" the guy stuttered, before blurting, "She did it herself!"

Herself? Ichigo frowned and glanced back at - the body. Yeah, Moyu was dead. Shin was still holding her, but even Ichigo could see it was pointless now. The wound at her neck was barely oozing. Her heart had stopped. She'd bled out, just like Jackie. Fuck. He didn't blame Chad for running.

Ichigo let the priest go and turned to check the area more closely. He found what he was looking for immediately. On the ground, almost submerged in the slowly shrinking pool of blood, was a knife. Carefully, Ichigo fished it out and held it up to look at it more closely. It was a bit like his tanto, except shorter, and the handle was bone, dyed to deep black. Plain, efficient, and deadly.

The priest was right. "I don't get it," he murmured.

"Sir?" Shin said quietly.

Ichigo glanced up at him. He still had Moyu in his arms, though he'd given up putting pressure on her neck. "Why did she do it? Why the priest? And why kill herself afterwards?"

Shin's gaze flicked over to the second body, which was in the process of being lifted onto a stretcher. The end of a hair pin stuck out of the priest's eye. At a guess, though, Moyu had used it to channel some kind of kidō since the back-half of the guy's head was missing as well. Whatever had been her reason for killing the priest, Moyu definitely hadn't taken any chances that he might survive.

"I don't know for sure," Shin said, "but at a guess-"

"Mother!"

Whatever it was Shin was going to tell him got lost as Rami finally appeared and threw herself at her mother's body, sobbing wildly. Her husband, red-faced and puffing slightly, arrived a couple of moments later and stood beside them looking embarrassed.

It was probably because of him, Ichigo realised. Pushing to his feet, he handed the small knife to Rami's husband and said, "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Yes, my lord," he husked, bowing deeply.

Ichigo shook his head at the display of formality and left Shin to handle it. At least they wouldn't feel like they had to keep up any kind of front around him. Plus he should find Chad. Fuck knew where he'd run off to.

But before he could leave, someone called after him. "Shiba-sama!"

Ichigo stopped and looked round. It was another priest. If it was one he'd spoken to before, Ichigo had no clue, because honestly, with the gear they wore, there was no way of telling them apart. Still, he waited for the guy to catch up.

He bowed when he did, though nothing like as low as Rami's husband, and said, "There is a matter of restitution, my lord."

Restitution! Ichigo bit back his first instinct, which was to cut the priest's stupid head off with his sword, and instead growled, "It'll be paid."

The priest's eyes virtually lit up with the words, and Ichigo could see one hell of a bill coming his way. "Reasonable restitution. You try gouging me for this and I'll blow your head off as well, got it?" And maybe threatening priests wasn't the done thing, but frankly, he'd had it. Today had sucked, from beginning to end, and it wasn't even night time yet.

He must have said something right. This time the bow was much lower, and Ichigo believed the priest when he said, "I promise we will negotiate in good faith, Shiba-sama."

It was good enough. Ichigo left him standing there staring at his feet and left to find Chad.

* * *

"A sensor, a sensor, my kingdom for a sensor," Ichigo muttered under his breath as he quartered the hillside below the cremation grounds. Chad had to be here somewhere, it stood to reason. He had basic shunpo but nothing quick enough to take him far. Plus he hadn't looked up to marathon levels of running. But the ground here was thick with trees and frankly Ichigo couldn't sense low levels of reiatsu if they stood beside him playing the banjo.

"Fuck," he said eloquently, stopping beside a particularly tall and mossy tree. He was getting nowhere fast and, though this area was probably relatively safe, if Chad had gone further, he might just end up getting picked up.

No, scrap that, with the way this day had gone so far, Chad was probably halfway to the 12th's labs by now.

A shudder crawled up Ichigo's spine. No, he couldn't even think that. It felt like a jinx. Rubbing his arm, which ached like a recently set bone, Ichigo sighed and pushed off the tree.

Thing was, there was truth to his fears. The later it got and the longer Chad had been missing, the higher the chance was that someone had grabbed him. And Ichigo was, at best, wandering in circles out here looking for him. He really did need a sensor.

At top speed, it took him less than five minutes to get back to the 6th.

"Hisana!" he yelled as he strode in through the front gates. The guard, who'd taken one look at him and panicked until Ichigo reassured him the blood wasn't his, now hopped alongside him waving the new sign-in book. Hisana's idea, which she claimed was to keep proper tabs on who went in and out, and that Ichigo suspected was actually aimed specifically at him.

"Please, sir?"

Since he wasn't going to escape without signing, Ichigo stopped long enough to grab brush and book and quickly scrawl his name. As he was writing, he felt Hisana heading towards him, and by the feel of her reiatsu she was mad at him again.

He shoved the book back at the guard and turned to face her. "I need the best sensor we've got," he said. "Who d'you recommend?"

"Why, who'd you lose this time?" she asked, irately. "Your guard? Oh, no, it couldn't be them, because you already sent them home!"

Ouch. That had been at full volume in front of the troops. She was extremely pissed. Normally she kept this sort for thing for private. Though, to be fair, the yard had pretty much emptied out at the first sign of trouble.

"I did, I'm sorry. I was going to Jackie's funeral, and Chad and Shin were going to be there, so I wasn't gonna be alone, and then all hell let loose and yeah," Ichigo dropped his chin, "I'm sorry, Sagara-fukutaichō. I shouldn't have made you worry like that."

She stared up at him for a second and then sniffed. "Apology accepted. I recommend your sister, since she's on duty at the moment. What do you need her for?"

"Karin?" Ichigo said. He hadn't realised she was back from Rukongai, but then she'd only had a few days leave, so yeah, it probably was up about now. "She'll be perfect. I lost Chad."

As they headed towards the offices, Ichigo briefly outlined what had happened, and how upset Chad had been. Hisana looked doubtful, but didn't say anything. She was shinigami through and through. People who got overly emotional about losing loved ones would always confuse Hisana. Duty to the division came above everything else for her.

"Karin sounds like the perfect person for the job. I'll send her out with a team immediately. And while I'm doing that, go and wash before someone sees you and completely freaks out." Hisana peeled off to head across towards reception, tossing back over her shoulder as she headed down the corridor, "Oh, before I forget, Lieutenant Yadōmaru dropped by to pick up Kyōraku-taichō's property. The paperwork's on your desk."

Kyōraku's property? What the hell was she talking about?

Ichigo swiped a hand across his face. It came away bloody, and now Hisana had mentioned it, the sticky itch was obvious. Washing was definitely a good option.

He took a quick detour to the division baths and ended up snagging a yukata from there when he realised his shihakushō was stiff with Moyu's blood. Then, barefoot and still dripping slightly, he wandered along to his office, nodded at the guards and went in.

Hanatarō was conspicuous by his absence, off making tea with any luck. In anticipation of a forthcoming tray, Ichigo went to clear a space on his desk. As well as the documents Hisana had mentioned, there was a pile of papers stacked to one side of the work area and his in-box was full again. Damn, he'd only been gone a few hours. How the hell did one division generate so much paperwork?

He picked up the small sheaf of… Registration documents in triplicate. How nice. And flicked through them, frown deepening. A moment later, he cursed under his breath, threw them back on the desk and strode over to the little backroom. He knew what he was going to find even before he opened the door, but it was somehow still a shock.

Not only was the room empty, but Hanatarō's bag was gone as well. The one that had all his worldly possessions in it. The one he'd never leave behind.

So much for putting things off.

Ichigo was too drained to be really mad, and too unsurprised to be insulted. More than anything, he was disappointed. With the stupid selfish Gotei, and Kyōraku, who he'd kind of thought of as a friend, and himself for not seeing this coming after this morning.

"Fuck." Ichigo thumped the door-jamb with the side of his hand and then turned to slide down the wall. When his ass hit the floor, he bent his knees up and wrapped his arms round them.

Someone, somewhere, had better be having the best day ever. They had to be, to compensate for Ichigo's frigging awful one.

His eyes strayed to the desk drawer, to the photograph he'd managed to rescue from the ruin of the captain's office.

Times like these, he missed the real Renji. Okay, he'd probably get a noogie and a smart-ass comment about getting his head out of his ass and taking it like a man, but Renji was really great at making you feel like someone had your back. Ichigo hadn't realised how much of a gaping hole Chad's death had left until Renji had stepped in and filled it.

But now Renji was gone and Chad…

Ichigo sighed, his breath warming chilled skin through the thin cotton of the yukata. Chad seemed broken. He was doing a good impression of himself, but something wasn't right. And Ichigo had a bad feeling that just ignoring it wasn't going to fix anything.

He shivered. Grief was such a difficult thing. Especially when it came with a massive dollop of guilt like Chad's had to. Ichigo knew; he'd been living with his own for years. It ate away at every barrier you stuck up against it, breaking through and sucking away your self-confidence. And this fuck up with Moyu wasn't going to help.

How did people get past it? Ichigo had no clue. And if he couldn't help himself, he wasn't gonna be able to help Chad.

Again, the person he needed was Renji. He'd find some way of building Chad back up. He was good at it, even if he couldn't do the same for himself. And anyway, it'd be nice just to have someone to bounce ideas off. Not to mention keep the bed warm at night.

Damn it, he'd even settle for Byakuya right now.

Huffing a rueful laugh through chattering teeth, Ichigo climbed to his feet and went in search of a clean shihakushō.

He must be desperate, wanting the ice-prince around during a personal crisis. Though if nothing else, they'd all be together, and Renji and him could dump Byakuya with all the paperwork.


	9. FreeFall 2: Ode to a Mountain Top

Munching stoically on his second onigiri of the day, Renji started another turn around the dilapidated warehouse. One more circuit and he'd take a break.

One more circuit and he'd have to. The muscles in his back were already screaming from overuse, but he was damned if wouldn't give it his all before he gave up.

Damp concrete powdered under his fingers as he let the wall take his weight for a second. He needed it to keep his balance, which was pretty pathetic, but it beat falling on his ass, so leaning on the wall it was.

The asauchi thumped against the front of his thighs as he walked. He'd used an old piece of wire to hang it round his neck so he had his hands free. Throw in his scars, hacked off hair and the grubby dust-sheet he was wearing as a cloak, and Renji reckoned he totally looked the part of a destitute ronin from some tragic saga. Mind you, any humans who walked in off the street, probably wouldn't see it that way. Hardware hovering in midair with no means of support tended to just scare people, not impress them.

Not that Renji cared. He had other things on his mind.

Byakuya and him needed to have a conversation. One that went, thanks for busting me out of jail, taichō, but what the fuck are we supposed to do now?

Only, putting it like that wasn't going to work, and for the life of him Renji couldn't come up with a form of words that might. He'd been working on it for a couple of days now, when he was awake and Byakuya wasn't around, and he was no closer to coming up with a solution.

Outside, a hunting hollow screamed.

Renji frowned and made a detour to the partly open door, peering out into the weed-dotted yard and rusty link fencing that surrounded the warehouse. The midday sun shone brightly, but it was deceptive. Winter was getting into full swing and it was cold out there. Not freezing, not during the day, but still chilly, and it was only a matter of time before it got to be a problem. Renji wasn't human, so he wasn't suffering badly yet, but without reiryoku to convert to reiatsu, he wasn't going to be able to manage without proper shelter for much longer. And Byakuya didn't seem in a hurry to get anywhere.

Which brought Renji right back to his imagined conversation. He wanted to know where they were heading, and what Byakuya was proposing to do when they got there. Did he actually have a plan? If he did, he hadn't discussed it with Renji.

And what about Ichigo? Sure, Byakuya said he was okay left in charge at the 6th, but the kid had been in Seireitei for all of half a year. He knew next to nothing about how to run a division, let alone how to survive the politics of it all.

Did he even know where they were? In a way, Renji hoped not. If Ichigo didn't know, he couldn't accidentally let anything slip to the wrong person, but it made Renji feel lonely. He'd gotten used to having Ichigo around. They balanced better when the three of them were together, and going back to just two, just him and Byakuya, was kind of scary.

So, yeah, asking about Ichigo. He should do that too, if he could stay awake for long enough. As far as Renji could tell, he was sleeping twenty hours out of twenty-four at the moment, and when he was awake and could defend himself, Byakuya was out scavenging for supplies.

That, at least, had improved since Renji had mentioned the shrines. Byakuya wasn't looking anything like so haggard, and there'd been no recurrences of him trying to eat hollows.

Renji's smirk at the memory faded as he glanced down at the onigiri in his hand. It was a bit stale, but normally that wouldn't have put him off eating it. Today though, like every other day since he'd been sealed, he just didn't feel hungry.

It was the strangest feeling ever. Since the earliest time Renji could remember, even back before he started hearing Zabimaru, he'd always been hungry. It was the one constant in his life that had followed him from hovel to feeding camp to manor house. Only the intensity of it had ever varied, never its continual nagging presence. And never had he said no to food before when it was offered.

But right now, Renji could have put this chewy tasteless rice ball down and walked away without a backward glance. And that was all kinds of not right.

The only thing that stopped him was knowing that he had to eat to heal. His body still made reiryoku from food, just in minute quantities and any that wasn't used immediately was lost to the seal. But theoretically, the more he ate, the faster he'd heal. Not that it seemed to be working yet.

Course he couldn't see his back himself, but he'd seen the way Byakuya looked at it. Or more to the point, the way he didn't.

Was he that ashamed of Renji's injuries?

Renji wasn't exactly proud. The marks were distinctive. Anyone looking at his back would know he'd been flogged, and since that only happened to people who broke the law, until they healed and the scars faded, anyone who saw them would assume Renji was a criminal.

And that wasn't true. Okay, so technically he'd broken the law, but it had been for a good reason. One that Renji didn't regret for a moment. If anything he was proud of what he and Ichigo had done that night, rescuing Ishida from the 12th, even if it had led to even more disaster later.

Seeing Byakuya avert his eyes from the damage that resulted, hurt. It made Renji feel like maybe Byakuya thought he was a criminal. Or maybe that the marks made Renji ugly. They had to have done loads of damage to the tattoos and Byakuya loved Renji's ink.

Whatever the truth was, the way to fix it was to heal up as fast as possible. So, Renji thought, savagely tearing a bite from the onigiri, even if he wasn't hungry, he would eat.

As he chewed the tasteless mush, the hunting hollow screamed again, and this time another joined it. Renji swallowed his mouthful, pushed the door open further and ventured carefully outside.

That had been closer. A lot closer. Whoever those hollows were after was coming this way.

When the scream came for a third time, Renji tossed the unfinished onigiri and drew the asauchi. It felt awkward and empty in his hands, another reminder, as if he needed it, of the bars in his soul keeping him from Zabimaru. But now wasn't the time to be worrying about that.

A small figure appeared round the corner of the building. It was a kid, no taller than Renji's waist, with a shock of dark hair, and he was running flat out. A second later, Renji realised why.

The hollow, which stood about head height at the shoulder and was a kind of mucky tan colour, skidded round the corner like a deer on ice. It had the wrong number of legs though, for a deer. And the wrong kind of head.

Nope, take that back, heads plural. Somehow the thing had six legs and two heads. Both of which were screaming. Well, that explained a lot.

"Oi! Kid! In here!" Renji yelled, pulling the door wide open and gesturing for the kid to get inside. It showed how terrified the kid was of the hollow that he completely ignored Renji's odd appearance and shot straight past him into the warehouse. Renji slammed the door behind him, and dropped the security bar.

With the kid safe, Renji was free to fight. He stepped further out onto broken concrete and took his stance, bracing his legs as his body tried to argue against it. This was no time for weakness. The kid needed Renji to be strong, so Renji would be strong, end of discussion.

The hollow, if it saw him at all, didn't even try to slow down and engage, it just kept on coming. Renji braced himself for impact and aimed at the neck of the right head.

He missed. The hollow hit him hard enough to drive him back into the side of the warehouse. Renji hit it with a grunt of pain and expelled air. Fuck, that hurt. He'd forgotten he didn't have reiatsu to reinforce his body. But it was too late for second thoughts now.

Lifting his legs, he shoved at the thing's shoulder, trying to get it to shift off him. It wasn't interested. All it wanted was in, and it apparently hadn't got the sense to just phase through the wall.

Instead it was pounding its heads against the warehouse door like a bull and from inside Renji could hear the kid screaming in terror. There was another exit round the back, through the small office space where he'd found the dust-sheet. If the kid bolted through there, the hollow would be on his trail in a second and there wasn't anything Renji could do to stop it. It wasn't interested in him. He didn't smell of tasty reiryoku.

The hollow was tough, and stupidly heavy, but Renji finally managed to wriggle his top half free enough to get in a swing with the asauchi. This time his aim was good. Despite the angle, he managed to cut a substantial slice down the side of one neck. The thing bellowed and shifted away from the source of pain, dropping Renji to the ground in the process. He landed on hands and knees, and looked up in time to see the hollow's injured head roll clumsily on its half-severed neck as the other whipped round to see what bug had attacked it.

Which was when Renji realised that aggravating something with two heads that had you pinned against a wall like a butterfly was a really really stupid idea.

"Fuck!" he yelped as the same battering ram power that had been attacking the door got turned on him.

The hollow's uninjured head snaked towards him, mouth open and drooling. Renji dodged, feeling the breeze of its passing, and hearing teeth snap and metal buckle way too freaking close to his head for comfort. He needed to get free, needed space. He couldn't fight at close quarters when the hollow had him at every disadvantage.

But how? With no reiryoku, he had no kidō. No shikai. No reiatsu he could use to blast the hollow away from him. No strength beyond that of a normal soul.

But he hadn't always had power to spare. For years he'd scrabbled for a living at the camps and the rougher districts of Rukongai. And all the good living in the world wasn't enough to drive those lessons out of his head.

When out-weighed and out-skilled, there was only one way to fight. And that was dirty.

With a bellow of his own, Renji shoved the asauchi blade sideways like a pirate between his teeth and launched himself onto the hollow's back. The thing bucked and twisted beneath him like the bull it resembled. Renji clung on with heels and arms, flat against the hollow's back, feeling the skin on his own back splitting yet again as he stretched. Fuck it, Byakuya was going to kill him for this. But what was he supposed to do, let the kid get eaten? Never gonna happen. Not while Renji was still alive to stop it, anyhow.

With one hand, he dug into the injured neck, tearing at the hollow's flesh until he dug down to something that felt like spine. That he wrapped his fingers around, clamping on as hard as he could. Now he could risk letting go with the other.

His whole body shifted as he unwound his right arm from round the hollow's other neck. His thighs slipped on its back, its rough scaly hide turning slick from either blood or sweat. Renji hoped it was sweat. He really didn't want to kill this and end up bleeding out for his troubles.

With a muted snarl, he spat the asauchi into his hand. Now he could do some serious damage.

The next time the hollow put its heads down to buck, Renji struck. And hit home, taking the damaged head off its neck completely. Black blood fountained from the stump, spraying the ground, the walls, and Renji himself.

Renji could care less. With that head gone, he now had a clear swing at the other.

He lined up to swing again, but this time only caught it a glancing blow, slightly chipping the mask and taking off one ear. Even so, the hollow went frantic. Screaming and bellowing it launched itself away from the warehouse and… up into the air.

"Shit!" Renji yelled as it reached head height with a single bound and kept on climbing. The ground dropped sickeningly away beneath them and Renji pressed his face to the hollow's shoulder as what had been a fight to the death became a fight to hold on, hoping like hell the hollow didn't drop dead of blood loss or something stupid while they were forty feet above the ground and climbing. Because no reiryoku also meant no shunpo, which meant Renji was now only one slip away from a very splattery end.

For a long moment, there was nothing but movement, wind, and his own pulse thundering in his ears. Then the rest of the world started to come back. Through the noise of his mount's laboured breaths, Renji began to hear the sound of other hollows nearby. That wasn't good.

Cautiously, he turned his head and, from the corner of his eye, caught sight of several more hollows now gathering atop the warehouse. As he watched, more joined them. Superficially, they looked like a diverse lot, all sorts of different sizes, colours and shapes. But unlike normal hollows, these were tolerating each other's company, behaving almost like a pack. That was unusual, and potentially dangerous.

From up here Renji could see that they weren't that far from a residential area. And where there were houses, there were living humans. Normally they'd be safe from hollows, but if this lot got worked into a feeding frenzy, they'd attack anything that had even the slightest bit of spiritual power, living or dead.

Plus the numbers potentially held another danger. Byakuya had mentioned that he'd seen a few higher level hollows around and, if too many of those got together, they could start to evolve.

Since his thoughts were already drifting in that direction, the ripping sound from the sky above hardly came as a surprise, but what actually emerged from the garganta shocked Renji to his very core.

Not hollows, but shinigami. Three of them, though no one Renji recognised. Probably 1st division, since they were the only ones allowed in Hueco Mundo. But what were they doing here in the living world? This wasn't their territory at all. And how the hell had they managed to open a garganta?

As Renji clung to the back of his wheezing hollow, the shinigami leapt past him, down through the skies in bursts of shunpo so fast Renji could hardly track them.

In theory, the hollows on the warehouse roof should have attacked on sight, or maybe fled. They did neither. Instead, when the shinigami landed, the hollows cowered at their feet, whining and slavering. Renji's own hollow began to croon in its chest and started stumbling downward with slow faltering steps.

A kick in the ribs did nothing to stop its groundward trajectory. Renji even tried hitting it on the edge of the mask and all it did was shake its head and pick up speed. It was like a dog on the scent of a bitch and it wasn't turning back for anyone. Since the ground was fifty foot and certain death below, Renji had no choice but to flatten himself against the hollow's back and hope for the best.

Below, one of the shinigami was pushing and shoving at the hollows clustered on the roof, eventually clearing them back up into the air. While he was doing that, the other two punched their way through the metal sheeting and dropped down inside the warehouse.

It should have been a reassuring action. The kid inside should have been safe from shinigami. But Renji didn't believe that for a second. Whatever was going on here wasn't a search for human souls to konso and send on to Soul Society. This was something else. Renji just had no idea what. Yet.

His hollow finally sidled up behind the rest of the pack, hovering about ten feet above the roof. And now Renji's lack of reiryoku was to his advantage. Though his hollow was greeted with snaps and snarls, none of the other hollows were the slightest bit interested in Renji, and up here, unless one of the shinigami actually looked up and saw him, he was safe from them as well because they'd never sense him nearby.

Thus protected, and lacking any real alternatives, Renji hunkered down to listen and watch.

"Any sign?" the shinigami on the roof yelled down to his fellows inside.

A muffled shout came in reply and a second later a tall shinigami emerged through the hole looking disappointed. "They've been there, I can smell 'em. But there's no sign now."

Were they talking about him and Byakuya? Or were they searching for someone else. Renji listened harder.

The first shinigami shrugged and, slinging his zanpakutō over his shoulder, said, "Guess we'd better report back then. Damn, I really thought we were onto something when the hounds caught the scent." He leaned over the hole again. "Hey, Santo!"

A crash and curse came from the back of the warehouse and then a shorter shinigami with a shaved head appeared over the edge of the roof with the kid under his arm. "Not a total wash out. Look what I found," he said and dangled the sobbing kid up by the collar. "Thing damned nearly escaped." Around them, the hollows began to keen and drool.

Renji's hand tightened on the hilt of the asauchi. Were they going to throw the kid to the hollows? If they did, could he get there first?

And do what? He couldn't konso the kid, not without reiryoku. Stabbing him wouldn't stop the hollows eating him. And Renji had already proved that he couldn't kill even one of these hollows, let alone the ten or so making up the pack.

And when the shinigami saw him, then what? If they'd been sent after him and Byakuya by Soul Society, they'd recognise Renji instantly. They'd grab him and try to use him against Byakuya and no, just, no way was Renji going to let that happen. He'd had enough of being a pawn in other people's battles.

It went against every instinct Renji had, but he was going to have to sit this one out.

"Not much of a snack like that, is he?" The tallest of the three shinigami laughed. "Right you hold him still."

The short one grabbed the kid more firmly and the tall one drew his zanpakutō. Konso, Renji thought with a surge of relief. Thank fuck, they are gonna konso him.

Then the zanpakutō was stabbing forwards, but not to press reiatsu into the child's soul to send him on. Instead it blasted away what remained of his soul chain. The kid's shriek pierced the air as the chain splintered to dust and the power of the blast forced the hole in his chest wide open.

No! No, fucking way!

Renji scrambled upright on the back of the hollow, feeling skin tear and fresh blood flow. The shinigami had backed off, leaving the kid standing alone, ramrod straight and still shrieking. Then between one blink and the next, he vanished.

The hollow pack started to scream. A hunting scream. Stuck on the hollow's back, Renji searched the skies. Any second now, the kid was going to reappear, only it wouldn't be a kid anymore, it'd be a hollow.

One turned by shinigami. The bastards. What sort of fucking shinigami turned a plus into a hollow?

His answer came a second later as the shinigami leapt into the air. As they sped past, Renji caught a glimpse of feral grins and eyes like Hisagi's. Not just shinigami, hollowfied shinigami.

That confirmed it. They had to be 1st division. Aizen was the one who did that to people's eyes, the sick bastard. And this was just the sort of twisted mind-fuck Aizen would get off on.

But why was Aizen after him and Byakuya? That didn't make any sense at all. If he wanted anyone, Renji would have put his money on Ichigo. Aizen had definitely tried to screw with him at least once.

As his hollow turned to follow the rest of the pack, Renji slid sideways off its back and dropped the ten feet to the roof, landing with yelp of pain and a rattling thump that thankfully got drowned out by yet another round of hunting screams.

He saw why a second later. The kid had reappeared, quadruple the size and blood red, its mask the image of a smiling baby doll. For a moment it hovered over the roadway and then it sprang, up and up. The pack gave chase, their screams making the sky reverberate. Around the small industrial estate, windows shattered, and people fled from buildings, yelling, "Earthquake, earthquake!"

In the sky, the baby doll hollow was on the move. It was fast, agile, confident. But the pack were wiser and with twenty sets of teeth between them, they were never going to lose.

They got above it, hemming it in, and then drove it back to the ground. They hit the shattered concrete in front of the warehouse as a seething mass of bodies, the baby doll at the bottom with the pack on top, and the feeding frenzy began. Black blood flew, along with gouts of flesh ripped from the new hollow, which shrieked and writhed, struggling in vain to get free of the pack tearing it apart.

The shinigami watched, laughing, and only laughed louder when Renji's injured hollow was driven off, keening its hunger.

It slunk round the edges of the pack, trying to sneak in and steal mouthfuls of dripping black meat. The others were having none of it, driving it off again and again. Finally one seemed to have had enough of the interloper. With a scream it turned on its injured packmate, slashing and tearing at it. It fought back, frantic and ferocious, and in a moment, the others joined in and the fight became a free for all.

This was exactly what Renji had been worried might happen. A mutual consuming. There wasn't enough yet for a transformation, but the resonance would draw other hungry hollows from miles around.

As if summoned by his thoughts, another scream came from somewhere nearby. Then another and another. The sky shimmered as more and more hollows emerged from their hiding places between the worlds.

Now the hollowfied shinigami had stopped laughing. Whatever Aizen had sent them here to do, Renji'd bet it wasn't to create a menos grande in the middle of a human city. That sort of incident summoned entire divisions, it brought lieutenants and captains to the living world, and sure as fuck these guys wouldn't want anyone but their own lieutenant seeing what was going on here.

One of the shinigami split off from the others, climbing higher into the sky. He ripped open a garganta and vanished into it, presumably to fetch back-up. They were going to need it. Renji could see even more hollows incoming, their bulky forms sliding through the air, across roofs and along roads, straining with the effort of reaching the promised feast.

If they all arrived, there was enough of them that this was probably going to happen. And Renji was going to be at ground zero.

He needed to get out of here. Pronto. Trouble was, that was gonna be easier said than done. Especially since the high from the fight had completely worn off and Renji had a sneaking suspicion he could now summon all the strength and co-ordination of a wet noodle. Anything above a slow crawl was gonna be out of the question.

Tearing his gaze away from the writhing hollows to the shinigami watching them from above, Renji gave the problem some thought. Those guys had a bird's eye view of the local area. Lying flat on the metal roof like he was right now, covered in this filthy dust-sheet, he was probably all but invisible. But if he moved, odds were one of the shinigami would spot him. And then he was back to being snatched and held hostage.

Shit. Talk about being trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Maybe if he waited. Sooner or later, the shinigami were going to have to get involved, weren't they?

Hollows continued to arrive. And as they did, there wasn't even a fight anymore, they just hurled themselves into the seething mass and started consuming, heedless of the teeth tearing at their own flesh.

Renji watched with fascinated revulsion. This was textbook stuff. If he'd been able to sense reiatsu, he'd be able to see what was happening to that too. As they fed on each other, each hollow was consuming reiryoku along with the flesh. Enough of it from enough different powerful sources and it would overwhelm their own. They'd become bloated sacks of mingled reiryoku, still mindlessly consuming everything around them that had spiritual energy until eventually the whole lot lost cohesion, became a sucking, swirling mass and just merged.

But long before that happened, Renji would've been consumed too because, sealed or not, he was still a shinigami and made of exactly the same soul stuff as those hollows. Even now the mass had reached the level of the roof and Renji could feel the tug on his body. It was kind of like with that Quincy cousin of Ichigo's. And if he stayed here long enough, the end result was gonna be the same.

Another glance up at the shinigami. Fuck it all, they were still watching, eyes glued to the frenzy of hollows.

There was no other choice. Renji had to take a chance. If he didn't, he was a goner for sure, and it just wasn't in Renji's nature to go down without a fight.

The next moment, a sheet of pale blue fire sweeping down from the sky across the warehouse yard rendered the whole problem moot. Though Byakuya touching down beside him on the roof raised a whole slew of others.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Renji demanded at the same moment as Byakuya, who was staring down his nose at the smoldering remains, said, "We need to leave. Now."

Much as the leaving idea was a good one, and much as his own question could wait, there was one thing that couldn't. Past Byakuya's shoulder, Renji caught a glimpse of movement, and just had time to blurt out, "Incoming!" before one of the shinigami appeared right behind them.

Only Byakuya's incredible reflexes saved him. The zanpakutō passed through the exact spot he'd been standing, though the un-incanted byakurai Byakuya fired back was right on target. The hollowfied shinigami dropped, his body missing everything from mid-chest up.

The other, the tall one who'd turned the kid, having seen what happened to his friend, hung back. Byakuya stepped between him and Renji, which meant suddenly all Renji could see was a pair of tatty hakama.

Tightening his hold on the asauchi, Renji wobbled to his feet, grabbing the back of Byakuya's shirt to keep his balance on the slightly sloping roof. The sheet on his back tugged and pulled against newly forming scabs, but so long as he moved slowly, he'd be good for now.

"Who are these shinigami?" Byakuya asked, his eyes firmly fixed on the lone remaining figure in the sky even as he braced himself against Renji's weight.

Renji leaned round him to hand over the sword and said, "Damned if I know, but they came attached to a pack of hollows." Briefly he outlined what Byakuya had missed, including what they'd done to the kid and the fact that one of them had left through a garganta. Byakuya listened in silence, a slight frown forming on his brow.

When Renji had finished, he said, "I see," and then the world was moving.

By the time Renji's stomach had time to lurch, it had stopped again, and he found himself lying on the ground, somewhere that definitely wasn't the warehouse since it didn't stink of burning reishi.

Byakuya knelt beside him, one hand on his arm, saying, "Stay here. I will return for you as soon as I've dealt with the remaining hollows." And then he was gone again.

Renji didn't stand a chance of tracking him, and even the thought of trying made his head spin. He stayed where he was, leaning on grass still green and soft despite the winter cold, and willed his stomach back under control.

"Here," a voice said some few heartbeats later, and a second afterwards, a bowl of steaming green tea appeared in front of Renji's nose.

Renji inhaled deeply, and for the first time in forever smelt something that stirred his appetite into life. With an embarrassingly trembling hand, he reached out and took the tea, bringing it to his face and letting the steam warm his skin. He took a single sip, followed by a deep slurp because, damn that tasted so good, then he summoned the energy to crane his neck to look up at his benefactor crouching beside him.

If the priest turned out to be as tall as Hanatarō when he stood up, Renji would be surprised. He was also as bald as a coot and as old as a mountain range. His face was so creased he almost looked folded up. But his smile was as genuine as it was toothless, and Renji couldn't help returning it, even though his was probably more than a bit wan by comparison.

"Better?" the old man asked. His clothing was similar to a shihakushō, with the addition of a narrow strip of gold coloured cloth around his neck. Plain and sensible compared to what most humans wore. Renji liked it.

"Yes, thank you," Renji nodded, and turned his attention back to his tea again. A few more mouthfuls and it was gone. He could feel it warming him all the way down. It was wonderful, like a hug on the inside. With a contented sigh, he handed the bowl back over and relaxed back onto the grass. "I'm very grateful, ojii-san."

"Good manners as well!" the old man cackled gleefully. "Unusual for a shinigami. The ones who come here are normally arrogant and rude."

The old boy recognised what he was? Eh, the simple fact that he could see Renji marked him out as special. Renji decided not to fuss and just raised his head to look around. He was tucked under a shrubbery at the edge of a garden surrounded by reassuringly traditional buildings, though the statues weren't anything you'd find in Seireitei. Definitely a temple or shrine. "Where is here, exactly?"

"This?" the priest said, gesturing around to the beautifully manicured trees and elegant buildings, "Is Taisan-ji. One of Japan's national treasures, though also, temporarily, my humble home."

Less than helpful. As a rule shinigami didn't take much notice of religions. It got confusing. "I kind of meant the city?" Renji asked, thinking about the miles and miles of buildings he'd seen stretched out beneath him when he'd been up on the hollow's back. Though the name probably wouldn't mean much either. In Renji's experience, locations in the living world came as co-ordinates in spirit miles, and were centred around known exit points from the dangai. Unlike names, those were constant.

"Ah, that is Matsuyama, capital of Ehime prefecture." Renji's face must have reflected confusion because the priest added, "On Shikoku Island?"

"Yeah, no, that doesn't actually mean a thing." Renji huffed a sigh and shifted slightly. He was getting uncomfortable here on the grass. But moving didn't seem like a shit hot idea either. He might just scare off the best source of information he'd come across since he woke up. Not to mention, with only the dust-sheet wrapped around him, he might just flash the old boy without meaning to.

"You're injured," the priest said.

Renji glanced up at him. "It's nothing, honest."

That got a disappointed shake of the head. "It's you who isn't being honest, shinigami. I know blood when I see it, and your back is bleeding."

"Shi- Sugar," Renji muttered, managing to turn the curse into something a bit less offensive. "Taichō's gonna kill me."

"Your captain? Is that the one who's been sneaking around all week helping himself to offerings?"

"Ah…" Renji said, freezing in the act of trying to feel if the skin on his ass had survived in tact. Going by how much it hurt, he wasn't hopeful.

Was lifting offerings the sort of thing that got you in trouble? Renji didn't remember anyone saying anything along those lines. "Why?" he asked.

The priest's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled. "You're loyal as well as polite. I like that." His face fell a little, "But you are hurt. Will you let me see?"

Renji looked at him doubtfully. "You some kind of doctor?" Even if he was, Renji doubted a human would be able to do much for a shinigami.

"Now, don't ruin the wonderful first impression you made," the priest said, "I was indeed a doctor for many years. There's not much that can shock me, not anymore."

As he spoke, he advanced on Renji with his hands out, obviously trying to be as non-threatening as possible. Renji still flinched away when the priest touched him, though not for the reason the old man probably thought. "I'm naked," he said. "Under this. I haven't got anything on." And though the priest might not care, they were right out in the open and someone else might. If there was one person here who could see him, there might be others.

"I see, yes," the priest said, immediately stopping in his tracks. He peered at Renji, suddenly looking much more like the doctor he claimed to be. "Can you walk at all? If you can, my room isn't far. It isn't much, but there would be some privacy there."

And not be where he was left when Byakuya got back? Worse, draw the captain's attention to this helpful old man? "Honestly, it's not that bad. I've had worse." Like when it was being done. Though thankfully a lot of the memory was just tones of pain rather than actual details.

"Tch," the priest hissed disapprovingly, and then scolded, "Now you're starting to annoy me. You shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, young man, especially not when its offered so generously by your elders."

That made Renji bark a pained laugh. "That's rich. You've got no idea how old I am, ojii-san. I bet you were still a snot-nosed kid when I got my first promotion."

"Which is no excuse to be rude," Byakuya said, suddenly appearing beside them.

To give the priest credit, he hardly did more than stand up. Renji didn't fair as well. On hearing his captain's voice, he instinctively tried to scramble to his feet and, with a yelp, toppled sideways. Only Byakuya's speed stopped him crashing to the ground, and he couldn't prevent the cry that escaped when the sudden movement tore the sheet away from his back.

"It's reopened, hasn't it," Byakuya said, holding Renji kneeling against him and easing the cloth up.

Renji heard him hiss, followed by the priest's gasped inhalation of air. A second later the priest said, "He was flogged."

"He was, and I would be grateful if there was anything you could do to help, ojii-san."

Renji shifted in Byakuya's arms. Okay, who was this and what had they done with the real Byakuya? The one Renji knew would never lower himself to speaking with a human, let alone ask them for help.

A low faint rumble sounded in the back of his mind. _Nor would he go barefoot or sleep on concrete._

Renji startled at the voice. It couldn't be. He had to be hearing things. They'd sealed Zabimaru away. "Is that you?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, it's me, Renji. Did you hit your head?"

A hand pressed to his forehead. Renji opened his eyes and blinked up at a worried looking Byakuya. "I heard Zabimaru."

"That's impossible, Renji, you know it is."

"But I did. I'm sure I did. Didn't I?"

"Who's Zabimaru?" the priest asked.

Renji expected Byakuya to tell him it was none of his business. Instead he said, "Renji's zanpakutō. I think he's hallucinating. Maybe he's picked up an infection."

"If we can move him, I can take a look. The wounds look clean, but there's much blood."

They were talking above him. Renji knelt there on the grass and listened, though it wasn't their voices he so desperately wanted to hear. "Zabimaru?" he whispered. "That was you wasn't it? Answer me. Come on. Don't leave me alone, not again. Please. Zabi?"

* * *

Renji still thought he was talking to Zabimaru? His trauma from the sealing must be far worse than Byakuya feared if he was starting to imagine such things. But then, Byakuya knew full well what it was to reach out and find absence where there should be familiar strength. How more traumatic must it be when even the connection to one's own soul was sealed away.

Hoping to ease some of the agony, Byakuya pressed two fingers to Renji's forehead and released a low level tanma otoshi. The distraught ramblings ceased as Renji went limp in his arms.

The old priest, who'd been looking at Renji's back, immediately shot Byakuya a worried glance. "He fainted?"

Not strictly accurate. "It is a simple kidō which renders a person senseless for a few minutes."

The priest nodded. "Like a sedative, perfect. I would have recommended the same thing. Between us, we should be able to carry him while he's out, though he's a strapping lad to be shifted around like that."

Rather than answer, Byakuya swept Renji into his arms and stood up. "I await your direction. At your best speed, if possible."

The priest blinked at him for a second before bursting into motion and almost dancing away across the grass, gesturing for Byakuya to follow him. "This way, this way. Try not jar him too much."

Casting a nervous glance up at the sky, Byakuya did as suggested. Well-worn stone felt chill beneath his bare feet as he followed the old priest towards a set of simple steps and a stand of trees.

If this old man was right about being able to help Renji, Byakuya would follow him to the ends of the earth. His only proviso was that they couldn't afford to linger. Those who had returned through the garganta were powerful, possibly powerful enough to challenge Byakuya since he was without Senbonzakura. And if they managed to track him here, they would kill the priest instantly.

The irony of that, of this whole situation, did not escape Byakuya.

Before Aizen, he too would not have hesitated in ending this human's life, because that was the law. Humans with high enough levels of reiryoku to see shinigami had to be terminated. They were a danger to themselves and to others.

Now, since his own life had been so systematically destroyed, Byakuya had no choice but to spare the human. There was a lesson to be learnt here, one Byakuya intended to do his best to absorb.

At the top of the steps, amongst the trees, stood a building small enough that Byakuya would have mistaken it for a shed had the priest not stopped beside its low wooden door. Pushing the door open, the priest said, "In here. But be careful. Don't knock his head on the jamb as you go in. It's very cramped. "

As if he would. These days, Byakuya was as well-versed in his lover's dimensions as he was his own. Carrying him sleeping from one bolt-hole to the next had become a matter of routine over the past few weeks.

Even so, Byakuya took care as he ducked down to enter and discovered that the room was just as mean inside as its door had promised. The space was no more than two tatami mats in size. Its walls wooden and unlined, its floor bare stone. The bed, against the far wall, was a simple sleeping mat. The single window was open and only slatted against the elements.

For all that, it was utter luxury compared to what they'd endured recently, and Byakuya couldn't help but feel grateful.

"Put him down here," the priest said, indicating the bedroll.

Byakuya laid Renji down gently on his front, saying, "If there is nothing you can do for him, please inform me immediately so that we may leave."

"That's the second time you've said something like that. You've somewhere you're anxious to be?" the priest asked. He was fiddling with the only modern thing in the room; a large black case with wheels. As Byakuya watched, it sprouted a handle from one end, which the priest used to drag the thing closer to the sleeping Renji.

Byakuya did have a destination in mind, it was just that he had no idea how to find the place. If he had, he would have taken Renji away from this city and its marauding hollows days ago, the moment his own strength returned enough to allow him to move them both with shunpo.

But that wasn't why he'd asked the old man for his honesty. Trying not to reveal too much, Byakuya explained, "We are being hunted, and I fear those searching for us would not be gentle if you were caught in our company." Gentle wouldn't even enter into it. And after what Renji had described about events earlier, Byakuya feared death would only be the beginning of the old man's torment.

If it weren't for the help the priest offered, Byakuya would never have risked involving him. But the truth was, Renji's injuries weren't healing on their own, and Byakuya was no doctor. He had no idea what else he might do to encourage them.

"Hunted, eh?" the old man replied. He'd lain the suitcase on its side and was kneeling down between it and the mat. "Then we'd better put our best feet forwards and get this young man cleaned up as quickly as possible." Pointing to a motley collection of wooden utensils in the corner, he said, "There's a bucket over there and water out behind the hut. And if you can do anything with that magic of yours to take the chill off it, I'm sure your boy will appreciate the effort."

Having given his orders, the priest unzipped the case. Inside was something which went a long way towards settling Byakuya's nerves; a plain wooden medicine chest of the type Takata-sensei always carried with her in the field. Surely only a proficient medic would possess such an item.

"That water won't draw itself," the priest pointed out flatly, as he busied himself lifting the chest from the suitcase and placing it on the ground beside him.

Byakuya took the comment in the spirit he was sure it had been intended, and jumped to. The bucket was old and battered, but still water tight, as he soon discovered. To the rear of the small house, was a small fast-running stream tapped by a sensible system of bamboo pipes which allowed him to fill the bucket quickly and efficiently. Heating the water would be more risky.

With his reiryoku sealed, Renji was invisible to anyone searching for them in that way, and Byakuya was skilled enough to keep his own power hidden. Thus, from a distance, the old man would appear as a single low glimmer, lost against the frenetic background of this city's swollen population of hollows. If Byakuya could keep everything he did within the bounds of normality for that picture, no one would have any reason to suspect that anything suspicious was going on.

Gathering a tiny amount of his own power, Byakuya quietly recited the incantation for shakkahō under his breath before immersing the barely glowing kidō into the water and releasing it. The resulting pulse flared hardly greater than the priest's own, but the water in the bucket warmed by a degree or two. A small smile skated across Byakuya's face.

This would work.

Painstakingly, he repeated the exercise until the water became uncomfortably hot on his hands, then he picked up the bucket and returned to the hut. The priest had unpacked his medicines and now had a neat row of tools and bottles laid out on a green cloth beside him, along with a bowl of water which he was using to wet the filthy sheet as he carefully eased the remainder of it away from the ruined skin on Renji's back.

Byakuya hesitated for a moment by the door, his eyes drawn, as they always were, to the damage. Renji must have fought hard. The new skin had split again in several places, and the existing tears had deepened. Only the bruising had healed, and that not enough. They were still purple in the middle, though fading to green and yellow at the edges.

Guilt stabbed through him. This was all his fault. Renji should never have borne the brunt of Aizen's machinations, and nor would he have if Byakuya had listened and believed when Ichigo had said he'd seen Aizen's zanpakutō. Instead Byakuya had arrogantly chosen to ignore all the evidence before him, and Renji had ended up suffering as a result.

Well, never again. From now on, Byakuya would do everything within his power to keep Renji safe.

"Bring it here," the priest instructed, gesturing to the floor beside the tools. A moment later he freed the cloth completely and sat back with a sigh. "Actually, it's nothing like as bad as I thought it would be. You've been keeping it clean?" He shot a piercing look at Byakuya over his glasses, which he had presumably donned while Byakuya was fetching water, and held out the filthy sheet.

Byakuya took the cloth and dropped it on the floor near the door. "As best I could, given our circumstances."

The priest's gaze sharpened. "I'm curious, so indulge an old man. Earlier, when we were talking, he called you his captain. Is that all you are to him?"

So many questions. Unfortunately Byakuya was not in a position to deny this human anything. "Renji is mine," he began. "My…" Lieutenant, my sworn vassal, except neither of those were true any more. Byakuya settled for the most important of the three claims he was going to make, "He's my lover."

The priest's gaze cut briefly to Renji and then back to Byakuya again. His lips thinned. "That's why you're being hunted?"

Byakuya frowned. If only it had been so simple. "No. Our relationship broke no laws. Neither of us had an existing bond when we came together." Well, perhaps Yoruichi but that surely had had no bearing on the matter. Byakuya could hardly see her chasing him down and demanding he return to marry her. The whole idea was preposterous. The hunters were definitely aligned with Aizen. They came from Hueco Mundo.

"I see."

That seemed to be that. The priest pushed his glasses back up his nose and returned to cleaning Renji's back, though this time he added iodine to the water and used some type of cotton gauze.

He'd reached Renji's thighs by the time Renji stirred. Byakuya hurried to be closer to him, kneeling down by his head and restraining his hands when he tried to move.

"Taichō?" Renji said, lifting his head and blinking a bit blearily up at Byakuya. He was often like this when he first woke. Byakuya was grateful for the reprieve as it gave him a chance to recover himself before Renji could see how deeply his emotions ran.

"Hush," Byakuya said, cupping the back of Renji's head. His fingers moved gently through tufts of cropped hair. "Just a little longer."

"Hai, taichō." Renji's head dropped again in perfect obedience to Byakuya's unspoken command. And there was that taichō again. No matter how many times Byakuya told him, Renji seemed incapable of dropping it completely.

There was a part of Byakuya that secretly welcomed it. Renji's insistence on the rank allowed him to hope that he wasn't failing Renji quite as badly as he feared. He was trying, but the living world was very different to the last time Byakuya had been here. Back then, the places he'd visited had been in the throes of war. Everywhere had been heavily militarised. For Byakuya, still serving under his uncle and Isshin, it had been like a home away from home.

These days, by comparison, it was chaos

Byakuya hadn't noticed when they'd first escaped the dangai with the cleaner so hard on their heels. He'd been so angered by the huge number of hollows he'd found that taking note of the general layout of the city hadn't occurred to him.

It wasn't until hours afterwards, once he was exhausted and had realised that the supply of hollows was endless and that there was no way to win that Byakuya had realised everything was so different. And by then it was too late. He'd fled down to ground level to hide, and the days that followed became a never ending maze of flashing lights, too many people, cars that travelled far too fast and signs that made no sense to him.

Byakuya had been completely out of his depth; lost, starving and, he could admit it now in the privacy of his own mind, going down for the third time when Renji awoke and so casually threw him a lifeline.

Yes, it had been Renji's wits that had saved them there. As it had been Byakuya's lack of them that had almost destroyed them again this time with his cavalier use of kidō on the frenzied mass of hollows. In retrospect he should have spoken with Renji before taking the action he had. But at the time he been unable to see beyond the imminent danger to his injured lover.

At least he'd been able to terminate the single remaining hollowifed shinigami who'd actually seen them. That should mean his and Renji's presence in the city remained a matter of speculation rather than fact.

With a final sweep of his brown stained gauze, the priest sat back on his heels and gave the injuries a final check, before taking off his glasses and letting them dangle by a cord round his neck. "I'd say six, maybe eight weeks since the flogging? Am I right?" He glanced briefly up at Byakuya.

Byakuya nodded. "Approximately."

"And someone treated him at the scene. Maybe with some kind of healing magic?"

"Yes. Without it, Renji would have died." Briefly Byakuya outlined what Unohana had done, and how it had been halted halfway through.

The priest hummed quietly, cocking his head slightly as he studied Renji's back. "And treatment since then?"

What he could, when he could. It wasn't as though they'd had access to an infirmary. Feeling irritation rising, Byakuya bit back a sharper answer and said, "Keeping the wounds clean seemed the most important thing. Surely given the chance, the body will do everything else." It should have done. He didn't understand why it hadn't.

That earned him a lingering look. Shrewd eyes sharp in their sea of wrinkles. "I see," the priest said. For a long moment he considered Byakuya silently, until Byakuya could feel the beginnings of a slight flush of discomfort, then he turned away with a grunt and picked up a chunky red tube with writing on the side from the assortment of things on the cloth beside him. "From what I can see, your fancy magic heals very fast and very efficiently, so I'm sure I'm right in thinking that you don't see many half-healed injuries like this." He gestured to the open wounds, "Which is why your young man has a problem. And it's one that's only going to get worse if it's not treated properly."

"I understand that, and I've done my best to keep Renji asleep to allow him more time to heal, however-" Byakuya said, only to be interrupted when the priest snapped, "You're a military man, aren't you?"

Byakuya frowned, his hand going immediately to his obi and closing around the hilt of the asauchi that wasn't and never could be, Senbonzakura. Technically speaking Byakuya wasn't in the military any longer, having resigned his captaincy, but that didn't seem to be what what the the old man meant. "By training, yes."

"Hm," the priest nodded. "Then you know what happens when a man exercises hard without warming up first."

A novice's question. "They'll strain something, perhaps even tear - Oh." Byakuya's gaze dropped to Renji's back and the deep splits that always seemed to reopen. The analogy seemed obvious now the priest had pointed it out. "He needs to move around more, not less," Byakuya murmured. Just like a muscle injury.

"I'm not suggesting he runs a marathon, but yes. Some gentle exercise. Stretching, walking. And he needs to do that regularly. Also the skin needs to be kept moist."

That at least Byakuya was doing right, surely. "I'm washing it whenever-"

"I said 'moist', not 'wet'," the priest growled. The insinuation that Byakuya was an idiot for getting the two confused hung in the air between them for a long moment, until the old man shook his head and sighed. "My apologies. I just dislike seeing someone suffer without reason."

Suffer? Byakuya looked again at the fragile new skin. How stretched and shiny it looked, and the way it pulled as Renji breathed. At the dry discoloured edges of the older splits. Of course Renji was suffering. And it was Byakuya's fault. Again.

He rubbed his forehead with one hand as the deep sense of despair that had begun lifting when Renji had first awakened threatened to engulf him again. But he couldn't allow it. Renji needed his taichō, so Byakuya swallowed it down as best he could and asked, "What should I use?"

"There's several creams," the priest shrugged distractedly and then rattled off a list of names. "Don't worry, I'll write them down for you. They're all available over the counter." He gave the metal tube he was holding a firm shake.

Byakuya stared at him, partly in disbelief but mostly in frustration. For all his attempts to help, this human had little grasp of how complex the problems were that Byakuya faced. "You do realise that I cannot simply walk into a shop and demand service."

"No, but if you've got the name, you can go into one, take something off the shelf and walk out with it," the priest replied, removing the lid from the tube which Byakuya now realised was a container. A spray perhaps?

"Steal it?" He'd done that for the washing cloths and would have done so for food had it been any use at all. To try it for medical supplies had never even occurred to Byakuya. Yet another failure.

"Why not? Or does stealing earn you this type of reward where you come from?" The priest pointed at Renji's back with one finger.

A sudden twist of home sickness struck at Byakuya's core. "Were I there, I would have no need to steal for such scraps," he muttered.

If the priest heard, he didn't comment. At least not about that. He leaned forward and placed gentle fingers either side of one of the deeper wounds. "Well, whatever he did, it must have been bad to deserve this much punishment."

"Said I tried to kill 'im," Renji muttered sleepily from Byakuya's lap. His head had ended up there, his hands curled in the cloth over Byakuya's thighs.

"And did you?" the priest asked. He shook the tube again and gave Byakuya a significant look. "This is going to be cold and may sting a little," he said.

Byakuya braced himself, hands tight around Renji's forearms.

"Holy shit!" Renji gasped, jerking spasmodically as the priest sprayed whatever the stuff was onto his skin. "And no I didn't." He shivered as the spray moved on to another split and looked up at Byakuya. His eyes were clearer now. "You know that, right? I didn't do it."

"I never suspected you. Not even for a moment," Byakuya lied. After all, it had been for the briefest of moments, so Renji didn't need to know. Especially not right now, when he was still so vulnerable. Perhaps when he was fit again, if they found some way to break the seal, then Byakuya could explain everything to him. All the things he couldn't remember; Central 46, Aizen, Muramasa.

Senbonzakura.

Byakuya's heart tightened. No matter how much time passed, Senbonzakura's absence never became any easier to bear. On his best days he felt ripped in two. On bad ones he found himself wondering if perhaps too long apart would make both of them fade away to nothing at all. Without his zanpakutō, he lacked focus, and though his kidō was strong and his reiryoku levels were bouncing back, Byakuya knew his power was not even half what it had been.

"This will seal the wounds," the priest said as he worked methodically down Renji's back. "It'll also help to keep them moist and keep the bugs out. I'll add some steri-strips as reinforcement to the deeper ones. But none of this will work if you don't allow him to exercise and keep this skin moisturised."

"It will be done," Byakuya assured him. He'd make it happen somehow. Perhaps they could take to the hills. There would be less shelter out there but with luck, fewer hollows. Byakuya could commute to the city for supplies.

"See that you do." The old man finished the final split and sat back on his heels with a sigh. "You can keep this liquid bandage, and I'll show you how to replace the strips. With the right treatment, there's no reason this shouldn't be healed properly in another week or so."

The priest might not have finished but Byakuya could already see the difference. And Renji had to be able to feel it. For the first time since Byakuya had held him in his arms in the Central Chambers, Renji didn't feel like he was holding himself rigid. That alone warranted Byakuya's gratitude.

He dipped his head, "Thank you, sensei," he said. "Both Renji and myself are humbled by your generosity. I have little in the way of value to offer in return except for this: when your time comes, and you find yourself on the other side, do not wait for anyone to find you. Go straight to Seireitei and tell them you have a message for Captain Shiba. Tell him, and only him, that Byakuya sent you."

"Kuchiki Byakuya?" the old priest said sharply, his gaze cutting directly to Byakuya. It was bright and piercing, almost accusatory.

A frisson of terror that somehow this human was a spy for Aizen pulsed through Byakuya's veins, before he regained control of himself. That was impossible. Anyone looking for them would recognise Renji's name and both of them on sight. How then could this man know his name?

There was only one way. "You knew Isshin."

The priest nodded once. "Though knew is stretching the point a little. He was a friend of a friend, Ishida Sōken."

Some relative of Ichigo's Quincy family. This was all starting to make sense; how this man came to have spiritual power, and how he'd remained undiscovered for so many years.

"Taichō?" Renji whispered, tensing in Byakuya's lap.

Byakuya laid a calming hand on his head. "Not right now," he murmured, because the priest was still speaking.

"Sōken and I served together during the war. There were things… " The priest paused, eyes becoming cloudy with distance and memory for a moment before he swallowed hard and continued, "Afterwards both of us felt the need to do something more… Anyway, I returned with Sōken to Karakura Town and we worked together to found the hospital there, to serve the people, the local community. Isshin…" He shook his head. "I never asked, but I think Sōken perhaps rescued him from some catastrophe.

"By the time we met, Sōken had already lashed together a body for him, otherwise I would never have believed he existed. A shinigami? Pure mythology. Yet there one was, in Sōken's living room, eating his way through a week's rice ration like he'd not seen food in months. We never became close, but I often helped with rebuilding his fake bodies and perfecting them became a kind of hobby for all of us over the years."

Byakuya listened in growing disbelief. Karakura Town? That had been Byakuya's target destination all along. He'd hoped that, once there, he might be able to glean some clue as to how Isshin had survived in the living world for so long and perhaps follow his example. To find this man, here, with all the answers… The coincidence was too great, surely.

As though reading his mind, those sharp eyes focused in on Byakuya again. "And now you. Isshin's student. Come to this city, at this time. I thought I was beginning to go senile, feeling such a pull to this place when I should have been continuing my pilgrimage." Another shake of the head. "Truly, when Dainichi has plans, it is better not to fight against them."

Destiny then? The same thing that had led the 13th to Isshin's door so many years later. That perhaps Byakuya could believe in, for Renji if not for himself. Still he had to be sure, somehow. Those creatures, earlier, had come from Hueco Mundo. Could all this even now be an illusion cast by Aizen? Some kind of wish fulfilment to keep Byakuya distracted and unobservant?

He shifted, giving Renji a chance to move from his lap, then stood and went to the door. Outside, over towards the sea, the sky was still a clear winter blue. But it was the only part that looked no different. The rest almost boiled with hollows. So many in different sizes and shapes. Colours ranging through all of the rainbow. He even caught a glimpse of an orange so close to Ichigo's hair colour that for a moment he thought he was seeing things.

And then it was gone as the hollows swirled away in a complex formation, working outward from the place Byakuya and Renji had been hiding. Hunting for them, Byakuya surmised. And amongst the hollows, smaller figures. Some in black, others in white. Captains? More than one? Who else was on Aizen's side?

Worrying as all this was to watch, it was also reassuring. If Aizen was seeking to pacify Byakuya, it was unlikely he would allow him to see this. Thus, Byakuya was willing to at least tentatively trust that this was real.

At some point, you had to. It was either that or go insane with paranoia.

Ducking back into the hut, he closed the door behind him and said, "Can you get us to Karakura Town?"

The priest, who seemed to be putting pieces of tape on Renji's back, blinked up at him with a frown on his face. "Probably. I have a return plane ticket. Redeemable any time."

An aeroplane was fast. Faster even than shunpo. It would render them untraceable. Byakuya felt the first tentative tendrils of hope bloom in his chest.

"Taichō?" Renji asked, voice concerned.

Byakuya gestured him to silence; this time he knew what he was doing; and continued to the old priest, "Ojii-san, I have never travelled by aeroplane, but I am looking forward to trying the experience. Tell me, how long will it take you to pack?"


	10. Nobody's Fault But Mine

He had no idea where he was or how he'd got here. He just knew that he was lost and had been for hours.

Yasutora skidded, his feet almost going from under him. Only a hand quickly slammed against the wall stopped him falling and cracking his head open on the stone.

Panting heavily and knees shaking from exertion, he stopped, resting his forehead against the wall, his eyes wide-open, staring. He closed them again. It made absolutely no difference to the ghost images dancing bright against unrelenting black. There wasn't enough light down here to see anything at all

But he could hear. The drip of something wet, the rasp of his own breath.

A creature snorting in the darkness, and the scrape of something sharp against stone.

Yasutora jerked upright. It was here again, whatever it was. The thing that was hunting him, driving him on until even his reserves were nearly exhausted.

_Gutless coward._

And, along with the hunter came the voice, the one from before, in his head. Only this time it wasn't friendly and supportive.

_Go on then, run, like the terrified kid you are._

It hated him.

_Run or face me and die._

"Screw you," Yasutora croaked, pushing himself off the wall and kept moving forwards. He had to. He'd never been the sort to just lie down and let death come. If you wanted to call it running, then so be it. While the wall under his hand kept going, then so would he, until he found some way out of this endless labyrinth.

And if the beast was waiting for him when he got there?

Fear and fury stirred under Yasutora's heart and he heard an echoing roar in his head.

Damn it. Give him some light and place to stand, and yeah, he'd fight, no problem. No matter what the voice said, he wasn't a coward. He was dead anyway if this went on much longer, so it had to be better to go down fighting.

In the meantime, one foot in front of the other was the only way to go, because facing the beast here in the dark was suicide.

Another patch of moss appeared at his feet. This time Yasutora stepped over it rather than slipping, and it wasn't until he was safely on the other side that he realised the implications of what he'd just done.

If he could see his feet, there had to be light.

Raising hopeful eyes, he squinted at the pale circle that had opened up in the distance. Daylight? With the way his luck was going, it was probably an oncoming train instead. Wasn't that the way the saying went?

He braced himself for disaster, but the light didn't get brighter or bigger, and nothing screamed out of the darkness borne on screeching metal wheels of death. So eventually Yasutora decided it was probably safe and got moving again.

The moment he did, something bellowed behind him.

Yasutora spun, and caught a brief glimpse of glowing eyes and massive bulk, before whatever it was hit him in the chest like the express train he'd been expecting from the other direction. He flew. Faster and further than should have been possible, tumbling heels over head through the air. Desperately, he tried using reiatsu to stabilise his trajectory. The thing was coming after him. He could hear it. Angry snorts, harsh breathing, hooves clattering across stone.

He had to land well. Anything less and it would be on him before he could defend himself.

Daylight erupted around him like a volcano. Sharp and bright, scorching on skin that felt like it had been underground for eternity. Sound exploded with it; the familiar dreaded cheers of the crowd.

Yasutora's back hit the sand and he rolled, coming up with blood pumping and fists raised. He could do this! This was the arena. His home-ground. Here, with Jackie beside him, he was more than ready to fight.

But Jackie wasn't there, not any more, and it wasn't a hollow that came out to meet him, it was a bull. Toro Bravo, as black as a moonless night with horns that curved like steely sabres into deadly points. As familiar to Yasutora as the dusty streets of his grandfather's village.

Nostrils flaring blood red, the bull pawed the ground, its head swinging low on a neck and shoulders of solid rippling muscle. Yasutora fought the urge to take a step back. That would be cowardly. The bull might be half a ton of raging killing machine, but it was still a pussy cat compared to most of the hollows he'd had fought in the past year.

For one thing, it was smaller. And for another, if it was a bull, it could bleed and tire and weaken. Yasutora's confidence settled and grew. This battle just went from life and death struggle to one of pure stamina, and Yasutora'd pit himself against that any day.

The bull charged, flat out across the arena, dust exploding beneath its hooves as it came, the thunder of them vibrating up through Yasutora's heels and into his chest. He held his ground, facing the thing down until the very last moment, then spun away with a step of pseudo-shunpo. The bull snorted its fury and drove its hooves into the sand as it turned to follow. Another 'step' took Yasutora to the other side of the arena.

Behind him, the crowd screamed abuse, and the voice in Yasutora's head echoed it. _Still running! Coward! Stand and fight!_

The bull's bellow resounded in time with it and, as the twin voices resonated into one in Yasutora's head, he finally understood. "You're the bull."

_NO! We, together, are you!_ Another charge. This one so much faster, and was it Yasutora's imagination or was that bull getting bigger?

This time he stood his ground for hardly a moment, but the breeze from the bull's passing still stirred his hair when he dodged. And now he had no time to rest. Not a second to stand and think. The bull was after him and on him, again and again, as the screaming in his mind built into a tsunami that felt like it would burst any second from the top of his head.

_Stand! Face us! Coward!_

_Not a coward_, Yasutora answered.

_Then why run? You cannot deny us. We are part of you._

That made no sense. How could this bull be a part of him?

Another charge and the sand slid beneath Yasutora's foot. What should have been a clean getaway turned into a stumble, and the bull was on him. Noise, pressure, heat, the power of it smacked into Yasutora's side sending him flying yet again. This time the barrier stopped his flight. He hit it with a thump that stole breath and, for the briefest of vital seconds, consciousness.

It was enough. Sharp and huge and as smooth as the slide of steel from a sheath, the bull's horn pierced his belly, through and into the wood behind him. Yasutora's cry of pain sounded loud against the sudden silence from the crowd.

Pinned, he hung there, hands clasping the living weapon impaling him. His lungs fought to breathe, catching on pain and things inside that tore.

He coughed and tasted copper.

Death. This was what death tasted like. Yasutora knew. He'd tasted it before. The bitterness and disappointment of it.

_So this time choose differently._

Now, the voice that had been full of rage was a fathomless pool of calm. Yasutora opened his eyes, and looked into those of the bull. Not an animal's eyes. But not human either. Something else. Perhaps a little of both?

"Who-" he tried, and coughed again, agony tearing at his innards.

The bull's eyes softened, its breath whistling in its chest as it panted against his legs. _Speak with your mind,_ it said, _We are one. I will always hear you._

_Who are you?_

_You. The part that you left behind._

The world wavered and Yasutora was back in the past. The Plaza México, huge and towering, stretched around him, the crowd cheering a synchronous, "Ole!" as the torero flipped his scarlet cape and drew the bull towards the man riding the blinkered horse. The bull charged and the picador's lance stabbed down. Yasutora cried out as flesh tore and blood flowed.

As the crowd screamed in appreciation, Yasutora dived for his father's arms, swarming up his tall strong body and hiding his face in a neck that smelt of sun and sweat and aftershave. "Papi!" he sobbed, "I don't like it. Can we go now, Papi?"

A hard hand grasped his arm and shook him firmly. "Hey, no hiding. I'm not raising some sissy-boy, you hear me?"

"Yes, Papi." A deep breath and nervous glance through lowered lashes. Now everyone had moved to the other side of the arena, the brightly dressed man looked like he was dancing with the bull, which was big and strong and powerful, just like his father. Yasutora sat up a bit, earning his father's grunt of approval.

"See that," Papi said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest against Yasutora's leg as he pointed towards the bull, "That's your culture, just like mochi and those kanji your mami has you learning. It's part of you and that isn't gonna change."

The world shivered, and dirt scratched beneath Yasutora bare feet. He stood in the village square, hate and rage boiling inside him as the other kids shouted names that stuck like barbs in his skin. He hated everything. Everyone. Mami and Papi for leaving him. Abuelo for not being them. And most of all himself, for not stopping them from going out that night.

He still remembered the policemen's faces when they'd come to the door. And the babysitter's scream when they gave her the news.

Now he was stuck in this stupid village, with stupid little country kids. He missed the city and his friends, he missed his parents. He wanted to cry at the unfairness of it, but Papi said real men didn't cry. Real men fought, like Papi did, and Abuelo did, with their fists.

The kids danced around him, too quick-footed to catch, like torero in front of a bull. Toro Bravo, the fighting heart. No matter how people drove it down, it kept fighting to its very last breath, just like Yasutora was going to do now.

He dropped his head and lifted his fists, shouting a challenge, heart pounding with the strength and rage of a bull.

A lurch in reality and suddenly, instead of kids, it was Abuelo standing in front of him. Bruised and battered from the blows that had been meant for Yasutora. That would have fallen on Yasutora if Abuelo hadn't got between those men and him.

And they'd hit hard, with clubs, until he'd fallen to his knees. But instead of fighting back, Abuelo had just let them do it.

"Why?" Yasutora demanded, still terrified and confused as he helped his grandfather limp out of the alley. "You're not a coward, why didn't you fight? You can, I know you can, I've seen the trophies." More than he could count, kept polished and safe on the shelves in their small living room along with grandfather's gleaming championship belt.

Abuelo's patient eyes crinkled, the split on his lip gaping a little as he replied with a question of his own, "And how many of their sons fought back when you hit them, Yasutora?"

Guilt twisted at Yasutora's gut and he gripped the lucky coin, now around his neck instead of grandfather's. "Not many." And none successfully. They hadn't a chance. Yasutora was too big and too strong for any of them.

"Then don't you think those fathers deserved a chance for revenge?"

Yasutora frowned. "Not on you. You weren't the one who hit their kids, and their kids weren't the ones who hit you."

"True," Abuleo said, reaching out and putting a rough hand on Yasutora's shoulder. "But you've seen my trophies. If I had fought back, what would have been the outcome?"

That was easy. "You would have beaten them, like that." Yasutora smacked his fist into his palm.

"And would it have been a fair fight? The type that would win trophies?"

That was more difficult. Abuelo had got the trophies by winning fights. Were there different ways to win?

Yasutora thought about that all the way home and all that evening, staring at the gleaming silver on the shelves that said, 'light-weight' and 'middle-weight' and 'Champion'. He thought about his grandfather and fighting, and finally, as he was going to bed, he said, "Grandfather, I have an answer for you."

Abuelo raised an eyebrow and put aside the newspaper he'd been reading, giving Yasutora his full attention. "And what is it?"

Fighting not to squirm under the scrutiny, Yasutora said, "It wouldn't have been a fair fight at all, sir."

"No, it wouldn't. Raising your fists against those weaker than yourself is never honourable, Yasutora. And when you're trained, like I am, or big and strong, like you are, that is everyone outside of the boxing ring."

"I know. I see that now." Yasutora looked up, biting his lip as he summoned the courage to ask what he'd been wanting to for a long time. It took a lot, but he got there eventually. "Abuelo, will you teach me to fight like you?"

His grandfather's approving smile made Yasutora feel loved for the first time in years.

The world spun again, and this time it was the cold, white, open spaces of Narita International airport that met Yasutora's eyes.

"Konnichiwa, Yasutora-chan. I am very pleased to meet you," his aunt was saying, her head lowered as she bowed slightly to him. She was tiny, so much smaller than him and Yasutora didn't know what to make of her. His mother hadn't talked much about her family, and even if she had, that had been years ago. Yasutora barely remembered the words she'd taught him, let alone how to behave in this place that was nothing like home.

Around him, the airport bustled, but not with the loud Mexican conviviality he was used to. This was the buzz of people intent on their destination. Spoken exchanges were clipped and formal, and everyone seemed to move like they had a bubble of space around them. Yasutora towered over them all, and his uncle, who was standing behind his aunt, was staring at Yasutora like he was some kind of invading giant.

Still, Yasutora did his best to be polite. He ducked his head to his aunt and murmured, "Konnichiwa, oba-san. I'm pleased to meet you too."

That earned him a slight smile from her, though his uncle just glared even harder.

"We've enrolled you in boarding school," his aunt said in English, the only language they both spoke enough of to have a decent conversation. "That would be better for you, we thought." Her eyes flicked so briefly to her sour-faced, impeccably dressed husband that it was hardly noticeable. Yasutora got the message anyway; he wasn't stupid. His uncle didn't want a foreigner around embarrassing him all the time, even if it was a relative.

But even with his disapproval, his aunt hadn't turned her back on Yasutora like she could have, and Yasutora was grateful for that.

At twelve years of age, he was too young to be alone under Mexican law. His grandfather's friends had done their best, but they weren't relatives, and the authorities had been about to send him to an orphanage when her letter had arrived with a one way ticket to Japan. So here he was, in Tokyo, with family he didn't know, in a country he didn't remember, and with yet another new start ahead of him.

Sometimes it felt like there was nowhere in his life that stayed stable long enough for him to put down roots. But he had no choice. This was what and who he had to be now, however out of place he felt.

Curling his fists at his sides, Yasutora recalled every lesson Abuelo had ever taught him, and then tucked the memories safely away alongside Papi. And when he answered his aunt, it was with his mother's words, the ones he remembered being so important to her when he was a child.

"Thank you, oba-san" he said, bowing properly this time, "I promise I will do my best."

The ground beneath his feet swirled from grey industrial carpet to bloodied sand and heaving black-furred flanks. Pain lanced through his belly where the bull's horn impaled him. And in his head, the voice rumbled accusingly, _You forgot about us. All of us. The only thing you kept was Abuelo's lesson, and you let that turn you into a coward._

Had he?

School in Japan had been a nightmare to start with, Yasutora remembered that much. He'd done his best, like he promised his aunt. Forced himself to change the way he acted and spoke, but he'd been too big, too dark-skinned, too foreign to ever really fit. The kids had picked on him, but when he'd refused to fight back, they'd frozen him out instead. In the end, that had almost been worse.

As soon as his Japanese improved enough for him to go to a mainstream school, he asked to transfer out, and had met Ichigo on his very first day at Mashiba Junior High. There, finally, he found the reason for his fists that Abuelo had told him about all those years ago. To fight for Ichigo, for what was important to Ichigo. And in return, Ichigo would do what Yasutora had promised never to do for himself, and raise his fists on Yasutora's behalf.

Did that make him a coward?

No. But the bull was right about one thing. He had forgotten a lot. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to mass, and though he wasn't exactly a Christian, he wasn't Shinto either and that didn't stop him from visiting shrines. He never spoke Spanish anymore, or practised his boxing. In trying to keep his memories safe, he'd locked that part of himself away and tried to deny it.

If that wasn't enough, dying had erased it completely, until Ichigo had given him Abuelo's coin back.

And now?

Now his Mexican half had come back, with vengeance on its mind, apparently.

Since, in Yasutora's experience, bulls didn't speak, this had to be a dream. So presumably, this was his conscience having a go at him. All those new/old memories coming back to kick his ass into shape.

The pain was fading. Yasutora lifted a hand and rested it against the side of the bull's muzzle, feeling its hot skin tremble beneath his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said, meaning it with all his heart. "I'm sorry I forgot you. I won't do it again."

_See that you don't,_ the voice said grumpily, _Or I'll chase you down and I won't be so gentle next time_.

Yasutora laughed as the wood at his back and the hide under his hands disappeared. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was back in his body, though as he opened his eyes, he thought he heard the voice say, _Remember, if you ever need me, you only have to call my name._

"What?" he said, eyes opening to star-spangled darkness and freezing temperatures.

A deep shiver racked through his body making his teeth chatter, as a female voice above him said, "I asked if you were Sado Yasutora."

Memories of the day, of Jackie's funeral and Moyu's death, returned to rest uncomfortably beside the dream of the bull. Yasutora frowned and shivered again, only then realising that he was freezing, and sitting in the doorway of some kind of temple or shrine, with a cloaked figure standing over him.

He tensed, fighter's instincts finally kicking in as he searched for other threats. There were about half a dozen of them, all with their zanpakutō drawn, stood some distance away in a loose half circle around him. If he tried making a move against this one, he'd be dead.

But did he need to fight them? This shinigami hadn't attacked him, she'd asked who he was. No, that wasn't true. She'd asked if he was Sado Yasutora, and only a handful of other people in Soul Society knew what Yasutora's full name was. Which meant these shinigami had to have come from Ichigo.

The instinct to fight or run faded. Instead, Yasutora ducked his head and grunted an affirmative.

"Finally. I'd heard you were slow, not an idiot," the shinigami snapped. "Now get up. We haven't got all night."

As the adrenaline from his sudden wake-up call faded and the sluggishness of a brain and body still half-caught in dreams and bone-numbingly cold, returned, another shiver racked through him. The shinigami huffed loudly and folded her arms over her chest. She still seemed angry, though why Yasutora had no idea. But whatever her reasons, she was only getting crosser the longer Yasutora disobeyed her. He should move. Maybe then they could sort this out.

Using a trick he'd picked up in the Pits, he forced reiatsu into muscles grown stiff with cold, and managed to roll smoothly to his feet. The group of shinigami, who'd obviously not been expecting him to move that fast, all shot back several paces, drawing their zanpakutō. Yasutora held his hands out, palms up, to show he wasn't about to fight.

It was enough to settle the woman. She slid her sword back into its sheath and came towards him again, saying, "You shouldn't be so quick to surrender. We could be anyone."

"You're from the 6th," Yasutora answered bluntly.

The shinigami cocked her head at him, her hood sliding back enough for Yasutora to see the ends of dark hair and the strong line of her jaw. "Good guess?" she asked.

Yasutora shrugged, he didn't want to mention the name thing, since it might lead to awkward questions. Instead he said, "I'm still alive, and you didn't use kidō on me before you woke me up."

"Eh," she said, tugging a bundle out from inside her cloak. "Glad to see you're not as dumb as you looked, sitting out here with no one guarding your back."

That had been pretty stupid and could easily have cost him his life. Yasutora couldn't remember much about arriving here, wherever here was, and what had made him decide it was a good place to stop. But he did remember running from the funeral. Was that why this shinigami was mad at him? Should he have asked permission before going? He hadn't even thought.

In truth, he hadn't been thinking at all. When he'd seen the blood, something inside his head had just snapped and he'd bolted. If he'd tried something like that back in the Pits, he'd have been branded a runaway and given a punishment beating. Here, he had no idea how things worked. Had Ichigo taken over as his new owner or did Yasutora belong to the whole of the 6th now?

Maybe he should have asked, but up until now his mind had been consumed with thoughts of Jackie. And with Shin and Koji and his family treating him just like another person, Yasutora had thought it was safe to let his guard down. He should have known better than to do that around shinigami.

But whatever the situation, apologising to this one couldn't hurt.

He dipped a shallow bow. "Sorry for running off. I didn't mean to inconvenience anyone."

That earned him a grudging nod. "I guess it couldn't be helped," the shinigami said, sounding a little less annoyed. She shoved the bundle at him. It was another cloak, this one large enough for his frame. Yasutora took it gratefully and was about to sling it around his shoulders when the shinigami continued, "And get a move on, we need to get you back and dealt with."

At those foreboding words, Yasutora's fingers fumbled the ties. Dealt with? He didn't think Ichigo would do anything like have him beaten, but someone like Takata-sensei might, if she thought she could get away with it, and Ichigo was often busy. Yasutora had hardly seen him at all in the past few days.

Then again, maybe he deserved it. He had been responsible for at least two deaths. At least he thought he was. Surely there'd been too much blood for Moyu to have survived. "Is she dead?" he asked.

"Koji Moyu?" the shinigami replied, glancing up at him. "Yes, but not before she stabbed a priest through the eye and blew his brains out. Crazy woman, I swear."

He hadn't known that he was hanging on to hope until his worst fears were confirmed. Guilt surged, and with it came the confession. "I told her to do it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The shinigami's hands flew to the hood of her cloak, stripping it back to reveal a horrified expression on a much younger face than Yasutora expected. Not that that meant much in Soul Society. "You told her to kill him?" she demanded.

Before Yasutora could explain, one of the other shinigami called, "Kurosaki-goseki! There's two patrols heading this way. 3rd and 1st, I think."

Kurosaki? Yasutora stared at the small dark-haired shinigami in front of him as she scowled and muttered, "Damn, they're always butting heads along this boundary."

Could she be related to Ichigo? She did kind of look like him, especially right now. And didn't Ichigo have a younger sister? Maybe two.

Kurosaki's voice rose as she continued, "Heads up, people. We'll be taking the usual late night detour, formation C. I don't want anyone getting picked off if we overlap with them. Ready on my mark."

Except Ichigo went by Shiba now, so why would his sister stay a Kurosaki?

The other shinigami all vanished from around them and the fifth seat's focus snapped back to Yasutora. Dark eyes, that could have been Ichigo's in another shade, assessed him coolly. "We'll be moving pretty fast," she said, "You gonna be okay getting dragged?"

As an alternative to getting caught between two patrols, he'd put up with it. Yasutora nodded and quickly secured his cloak. As she reached out for him though, the nervousness from before crept back in. "To the 6th?" he asked.

Even if it was for a welcome rather than punishment, the thought of seeing Ichigo there and having to face Koji's family after what he'd done, was enough to make Yasutora balk.

The shinigami snorted. "Hell, no. I'm not taking you anywhere near my brother till I've got some damned answers," she said, before grabbing his arm firmly and stepping into shunpo.

As world vanished around him, all Yasutora could feel was utter relief. He needn't have worried. She _was _Ichigo's sister after all.

* * *

"Fifth seat Kurosaki," the lanky red-haired guard on the gate dipped a shallow bow before glancing nervously around at the rest of their group, her hand edging towards the zanpakutō tucked through her obi. "This isn't your usual escort. Why would I let you in?"

"Because I'm 6th division and you're 13th and that's how it goes," Kurosaki replied, pushing the gate wide open and dragging Yasutora inside with her. "Besides, if I was here to cause trouble, I wouldn't bother knocking and you know it." As he stumbled past the stunned looking guard, Yasutora thought about introducing himself, but never got a chance as Kurosaki stopped hard and swung round, demanding, "Is Kira in?"

The guard, who was watching helplessly as the others piled through the gates, glanced back at Kurosaki with a frown. "I think he's out-" she began, but that was as far as she got.

"Cool, we'll use his place then." Kurosaki turned to the escort. "You lot wait here till I call. Suzu'll make you tea and snacks and let you sit round the brazier, won't you, Suzu?"

"I-I guess…" The guard, Suzu, replied as the seven strapping and well-armed shinigami who made up the rest of their group streamed past her into the small guard house, the buzz of conversation already starting up as the door opened and heat and warm golden light spilt out to greet them.

"Right, let's go," Kurosaki said, tightening her hold on Yasutora's arm and taking another step of shunpo. They stopped a heartbeat later, before Yasutora even had a chance to feel disoriented, in front of what had to be the division's main building. It towered over them, two and half stories of plastered facade with a huge 13 painted on it, just visible in the moonlight.

Steep steps led up to imposing doors, which flew open as they approached revealing yet another female shinigami. This one, unlike the gate guard, was tiny, not much bigger than Kurosaki herself, and was the spitting image of Lieutenant Sagara from the 6th.

"Halt invaders!" she declared, posing on the top step and brandishing her zanpakutō, "You shall not pass!"

"Yeah, we will," Kurosaki replied striding up the steps, still dragging Yasutora along with her. "Because it's really freaking cold out here and I need to borrow a hell butterfly, otherwise your sister's gonna have kittens."

"Really?" the shinigami asked, sheathing her zanpakutō and falling into step with Kurosaki. "Why, what have you done?"

"_I_ didn't do anything," Kurosaki replied, with all her emphasis on the 'I'. "It was this idiot." She lifted her hand and shook Yasutora's arm by the handful of haori she'd not let go of since their first step of shunpo back near the shrine.

Scarily intense violet eyes immediately turned on Yasutora, scrutinising him minutely. "Sado Yasutora," Yasutora said, trying to dip a polite bow as Kurosaki dragged him backwards through the front doors. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Sagara Rukia," the little shinigami replied, confirming herself as the lieutenant's sister. But that was all Yasutora merited apparently. Her next words were aimed at Kurosaki again. "Are you going to punish him?" she asked.

Yasutora waited for the laugh, the brush-off comment. Neither came. Instead, Kurosaki said, "Dunno. Maybe," and turned sharp left to start down a long corridor.

He almost dug his heels in and refused to follow her. Except, this was Ichigo's little sister. And he trusted Ichigo.

"I'm using Kira's place," Kurosaki continued, "Round up that butterfly along with something warm and I'll let you watch if I decide he needs it."

"Deal!" Rukia said with a bounce and about-faced back down the corridor at top speed.

And maybe it was something about their tone, or the way Kurosaki had just tossed out that offer to watch, but Yasutora was suddenly catapulted back to the Pits and the so-called punishments that went on there. More than the simple beatings were the public whippings and mutilations. Object lessons, the owners called them, and it was certainly educational how much damage you could do to a person if you had a kidō healer on-hand to keep patching them back together again. Especially if you planned on sending them into the arena to die anyway.

But this wasn't the Pits, so Kurosaki couldn't mean anything like that, could she?

As Rukia had vanished back round the corner, leaving them alone, Kurosaki snorted quietly and shook her head. "Nuts, I swear. The whole division," she muttered, and kept walking.

Yasutora went with her. It wasn't like he had a lot of choice and anyway, he was over-reacting. He had to be. This was Ichigo's little sister.

Who was also a shinigami. And the shinigami who slit people's throats out on the proving grounds were probably someone's little brothers and sisters too. And this was the 13th, not the 6th. There was no Ichigo here, and no Shin to run fetch help. Yasutora didn't know any of these shinigami, and none of them knew him. If Kurosaki decided to carry out her threat, there was absolutely nothing to stop her from doing it.

And here was Yasutora, blindly following her like a lamb to the slaughter. He should at least try and fight, or something. Or maybe he could offer her something else instead? That worked sometimes.

Except, she was Ichigo's little sister.

Yasutora's feet slowed still further as, about halfway down the corridor, they reached a door with a single flower stamped on it. Kurosaki knocked once and then pushed the door back, peering inside before opening it wide and entering.

Reluctantly, Yasutora followed her, and found himself, not in a dungeon or cell, but a small office. It was plain, simple. The single window was clean, the two chairs placed exactly opposite each other on either side of a desk that was clear but for a blotter, and the books were all arranged by size order on the single bookshelf. The scariest thing that could be said about it was that whoever worked here probably had a slightly obsessive personality.

It was also warm, which would have been a relief, except for the chill in Kurosaki's expression when she shoved Yasutora towards the chair on the far side of the desk, and snapped, "Sit."

To get out of the room, Yasutora would have to get past her, and though she might be half his size, as a shinigami, she had twice his power. Plus, she had a zanpakutō.

As he hesitated, Kurosaki's scowl deepened until finally she growled, "I said sit, and stop looking so damned scared. Sheesh. I only want to ask you some questions."

Yasutora's ass hit the seat as Kurosaki paced back and forth across the office, her brows drawn into a tight frown. After a couple of moments, she turned on him, demanding, "What did you mean about telling Moyu to do it? Shin said she killed a priest and then cut her own throat. What've you got to do with that?"

The memory of the bodies; scarlet blood on white robes, the crumpled forms and lax limbs; flashed into Yasutora's mind and he took a moment to breathe before answering, "Ichigo was asking about the funeral. He mentioned his father's business in the living world. The priest heard him."

And if she wasn't Ichigo's sister, or at least in the know, he'd just spilt the beans to yet another person, Yasutora realised a moment too late.

"Crap," Kurosaki muttered, a look of comprehension passing over her face as she began pacing again. "I swear he never thinks before he opens his mouth." She paused mid-stride and shot a frown at Yasutora. "Killing the priest seems a bit harsh though. Couldn't he be bought off?"

That had been Yasutora's aim, but it hadn't worked. His words had steered Moyu so far off course that she'd foundered and it was all Yasutora's fault. He'd never forget. Like Jackie's blood, those words were inscribed on his soul. "I told Moyu to pay whatever it'd cost to keep the priest quiet."

"Oh shit," Kurosaki breathed. The colour drained from her face and she sank onto the other chair. For a long moment that was it, and then her face crumpled, and she slammed her fist down on her thigh, her voice quiet and furious and hurting as she ground out, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

It cut Yasutora right to the core. He knew he'd made a mistake, but hearing it like this was somehow worse. "I didn't mean-" he began.

"Not you!" Kurosaki snapped. Her jaw clenched around other words that seemed to be fighting to escape. They got out anyway. "It's this place. These… people." As she spoke, her whole body softened, the anger and tension draining away to be replaced by exhaustion and something that could have been despair.

Whatever the emotion was, it most definitely human. "They're so hung up on death," she continued a moment later, her voice quiet, reflective, "they don't even look for another way out."

A profound sense of relief swept through Yasutora, because now he knew the truth behind Kurosaki's mask. This was Ichigo's little sister, she wasn't mad at him, and he hadn't been brought to the 13th for some kind of punishment. All she'd wanted was answers to some pretty straightforward questions. The same ones Yasutora had had to face when Ichigo had suddenly reappeared in his life. Are you the same person you used to be? Are you safe? Will you hurt me/my brother?

In retrospect, Yasutora could have kicked himself for being such a paranoid fool. It was true he needed to be wary around shinigami, but he also needed to remember that there were other people apart from Ichigo in Soul Society that he could trust.

A moment later all that human vulnerability was gone and Kurosaki sat up straight, fixing him with a narrow glare. "Did Ichigo tell you how we ended up here?" she demanded.

Yasutora was shaking his head when someone replied, "That was primarily my fault, I'm afraid," and the door drew back to reveal a tall man with long white hair wearing a wide straw travelling hat that concealed most of his face. Stick thin arms protruded from the sleeves of his pink flowery kimono and he wore two odd shaped swords, joined by a length of red cord, stuck through his obi.

"Ukitake-taichō," Kurosaki blurted, leaping to her feet and spinning round into a deep and respectful bow. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you."

The captain waved her off. "No, no, don't apologise. You know I love visitors, Karin-chan, and we have so few at the 13th these days. Tell me, how are your brother and sister?"

Her name was Kurosaki Karin and she had a sister. Ichigo's twin baby sisters. Of course. The final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in Yasutora's memory.

"Fine, sir, thank you. Um, this is…" Karin shot a quick glance at Yasutora, who took his cue from her and, standing, bowed respectfully.

Ukitake tipped his hat back, meeting Yasutora's gaze with intense sea-green eyes and a smile that made the hairs on the back of Yasutora's neck stand on end. "Sado Yasutora-kun, I believe. Recent refugee from the Iba family business and an old friend of Ichigo-kun from his days in the living world."

Karin kind of deflated. "Yeah," she grumped, "but it's supposed to be a secret so don't going telling everyone, okay."

"Phht, no one would believe me if I did," Ukitake laughed, entering the room properly, though he left the door open behind him, Yasutora noticed. "I'm mad, remember, and no one believes anything a mad man says."

"So it wasn't your fault we ended up here then," Karin tossed back.

Ukitake's smile vanished, replaced by a look of such profound sadness that Yasutora almost wished for the demented smile back. "Ah, I'm afraid that was very much the truth, since it was a member of my division who noticed your brother's abnormal levels of spiritual pressure and reported the anomaly."

"That doesn't make it your fault."

"Good luck trying to convince him of that," Rukia said as she pulled the door back a little further and stepped into the room. She glanced up at Ukitake-taichō before adding in Karin's direction, "I tell him all the time and he never listens to me."

The smile was back, only this time it was lop-sided and small and kind as Ukitake gazed down at his division member. "This is still my division, Rukia-chan," Ukitake said, "thus ultimate responsibility is mine."

"But if I hadn't brought you the report-" Rukia began.

"Then someone else would have eventually. No, I'm sorry. I am the one who facilitated the murder of Isshin's family. This is my burden to bear."

Murdered? Yasutora couldn't prevent the shocked looked he shot at Karin.

She sighed through her nose. "They came to the house and killed us all." She shook her head, "I don't remember much about that night."

"A small mercy, considering the circumstances," Ukitake put in. "Though I'm sure you didn't suffer. It would have been a matter of pride for Byakuya to make it as quick and painless as possible. However, it was still murder."

"Why?" Yasutora asked.

Those fathomless green eyes turned on him and for a second Yasutora could swear he heard the ocean. "Or the same would have happened to them as happened to you, Sado Yasutora. It was a hollow that consumed you, was it not?"

And just like that, he was back there, reliving being dragged from his still twitching body, hearing manic laughter ringing in his ears. He'd struggled, fought with everything he was, but it hadn't helped. The hollow had ripped the chain from his chest and tossed him to the ground, pinning him in place as he screamed and writhed, the hole in his soul starting to tear him apart from the inside.

At the very last second, something had happened to stop it. Yasutora remembered feeling power being pushed into him, and the next thing he'd known, he'd woken up in Rukongai, with no idea at all of how he'd got there. Until Ichigo had somehow returned his memories with Abuelo's coin.

He shuddered, dragging himself with some effort out of the past. "It didn't eat me. It tried to make me into a hollow."

Ukitake's dark eyebrows raised. "That is interesting, and not typical behaviour. What did the hollow look like, can you remember?"

Beyond being a monster? Yasutora shook his head, "I don't know, sorry. It all happened too quickly."

"That's quite understandable. If anything does come back to you, tell my lieutenant. He'll make sure I get the information. He's very reliable, is Kaien."

At Ukitake's words, Karin and Rukia froze. Twin terrified looks shot between them and then up at Ukitake. Was it the mention of the lieutenant that caused their reaction? Yasutora hadn't heard anything about the 13th's fukutaichō, but then he wasn't exactly in the loop when it came to shinigami gossip. They mostly just shot filthy looks at him and muttered things behind his back.

"Maybe we should go, taichō," Rukia said. "You must be getting tired by now." Her fingers made plucking movements near Ukitake's sleeve as though she was considering grabbing him.

Long fingers closed around her wrist. "Don't be silly," Ukitake said, and the smile was back; the demented one. It was terrifying. "These are my visitors, Rukia-chan, I can't just send them away. That wouldn't be polite."

A sound like waves on the shore crashed in Yasutora's head along with the kind of pressure that normally only came from a storm imminently about to break. From the way the two girls winced, he wasn't the only one feeling it. But what was it? Some kind of kidō?

No, it was reiatsu. It had to be. Only more massive than any Yasutora had ever felt before.

"We should have tea, and cake," Ukitake was saying. "We'll make a party of it, play games and sing songs."

Yasutora's breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering in his ears. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, the pressure was too much, too high. He started to shake and his knees began to buckle.

"Taicho, please!" That was Rukia, and she sounded as breathless as Yasutora felt.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the storm broke. The pressure vanished. Yasutora staggered, catching himself on the desk as Ukitake carolled, "Lullabies for naughty children. Come!" and, snagging Karin with his other hand, swept out through the door, calling as he went, "You too, Yasutora-kun! This way to my rooms!"

Half-collapsed and panicking shinigami scattered before them as they strode down the corridor and by the time they emerged from the main building, there wasn't soul to be seen anywhere. They'd all run, the cowards.

Unwilling to do the same, despite the obvious danger of the situation, Yasutora hurried in Ukitake's wake, unsure if he should try and slow the captain down or just stick with him. He couldn't risk making a mistake this time, not with Karin's life on the line. He had to be absolutely positive of his best move before he did anything at all.

They were moving away from the main division buildings and out across one of the training fields. Frosty grass crunched under Yasutora's feet and he strained his eyes in the moonlight to pick up any unevenness. If he fell, he didn't think Ukitake would stop and wait for him. In fact, he was pretty sure Ukitake had forgotten he was even there.

The captain's grip on Rukia and Karin hadn't relaxed at all, but as they made their way towards a dark shape in the distance, words poured from Ukitake in a never-ending rambling monologue that didn't seem to be aimed at anyone but himself.

"My responsibility. Should never had allowed him to go, of course, but there it was, he told me he had no choice. There's always a choice, I said, always a choice. You just have to know how to look at it, but he couldn't see. Never could see. Or maybe just didn't want to. Hated to be told. Obstinate, obstinate, just like his father.

"Mother and father, dead and buried, gutted on the battlefield like so many of them, and there he is taking up with one of them. Popping them out, one two three. Then he wonders why there's resentment."

Yasutora trailed behind on a stone path that led through a small stand of trees and out onto the shore of an ornamental lake. Just visible in the moon's wan light was a wooden walkway leading out to centre of the water, and at the end of that lay a small single storey building.

"Home sweet home," Ukitake sang, "Are you there, Kaien? Warm the pot and stir the coals, we have visitors tonight!"

"Taicho, no!" Rukia said, finally starting to resist. Maybe it was the sight of the little house, or maybe something else. Yasutora didn't know, but she was fighting, pulling back on Ukitake's grip, and Yasutora could hear she was close to tears as she shouted, "Kaien's dead! You know he is. He tried to kill Sasakibe and the sōtaichō burned him away to nothing!"

Ukitake was talking to a dead man?

Yasutora's worry cranked up a notch.

"Not Sasakibe, no," Ukitake replied, his voice drifting even as he stood as still as rock, despite the way the girls were yanking on his hands. A breeze off the lake made the pink kimono billow slightly and the hat had slipped back off his head, catching around his neck on the cord. His white hair glowed in the moonlight as he stared at the sky. "It was never _that_ lieutenant he wanted to kill."

The slightest puff of air was the only warning there was. The next moment, Ukitake dropped like a stone.

Rukia cried out and caught him as he fell, cradling his body down to the ground. A shinigami, with shortish hair that was either blond or white, it was impossible to tell in the darkness, rushed to help her, and between them they lifted the unconscious captain and began carrying him along the walkway towards the little house.

Karin took a couple of steps after them before stopping and silently rubbing her wrist as she watched them go.

"Are you okay?" Yasutora asked coming up beside her.

Nose wrinkling thoughtfully, Karin said, "I guess. He's never been like that before. That bad, I mean. A bit kookie, sure, but never scary." She glanced up at Yasutora. "Don't say anything to nii-chan. He'll try and stop me visiting."

That sounded like a wise decision to Yasutora but Karin had asked, so he'd bide by her wishes. He nodded, "No problem."

"Thanks. Rukia'd be gutted if I couldn't come to her girls' night any more."

"Even now you know what she did?"

"Informing on the family, you mean? Oh, I knew about that ages ago," Karin replied with a shrug. "Kira told me. He tells me all sorts of things I'm not supposed to know."

"Kira?" Yasutora asked.

"That'd be the guy who just put the captain out. Third seat, 4th division." Karin looked up at him again, a frown crinkling her brow before she returned to staring at the little house on the water, where lights had been lit and Yasutora could see the shadows of people inside moving around. "Sheesh, nii-chan really hasn't told you anything, has he," she said.

Yasutora grunted an affirmative. The only conversations he'd had with Ichigo since the night Jackie was killed had been the brief exchange in the mess and again at the funeral. And no one else had explained anything. He kind of wished they had. He might not have spent half of this evening scared of Ichigo's little sister.

For long moments only the lap of water against the bank and walkway broke the silence, then Karin barked a laugh and said, "Next thing you'll be telling me he's not signed you on yet. Now that'd be a disaster."

Yet again Yasutora had no idea what Karin was talking about, which made disaster seem more likely that not. "Signed on to what?" he asked.

Karin's shoulders fell. "You are kidding me," she muttered. "I swear sometimes I have the stupidest brother in Seireitei." With a huff, she looked up at Yasutora. "From what nii-chan said, you used to be a slave. You're not anymore, so did he make you a member of the 6th, or the clan? Or a servant, something? Without that- Crap!" Her lips thinned and her gaze cut away, "No wonder he was so damned worried this afternoon. If anyone'd grabbed you, we would've had a hell of a job getting you back."

"Sorry," Yasutora said, since an apology seemed in order.

"It's not your fault, it's my idiot brother," Karin said, straightening up and grabbing Yasutora's arm. "Come on, let's go check on the others and then we'd better get back and have you made official. If we wait too long, Ichigo'll have a fit, though I'm tempted to let the jerk suffer. He totally deserves it."

When they got to the little house, they found Rukia sitting outside the door, feeding charcoal into a smoking brazier. The glow from the flames flickered across her face making her features jump and blur into darkness, almost like a mask. As they came closer, she looked up and gave them a wan smile.

"How is he?" Karin asked quietly, taking a seat beside her and holding her hands out to catch some of the heat.

"He'll be fine. Kira got them out for him, so he'll be okay until he drops off."

"They?" Yasutora asked. From inside the building came the low sound of someone crooning a lullaby. Trying to get Ukitake to sleep perhaps?

Rukia's smile brightened. "Take a look," she whispered, pushed the door back a little, "it'll be easier than explaining."

Yasutora tiptoed over and peered inside. A single lamp stood in the middle of the floor casting a pool of light over a scene that Yasutora found difficult to believe. Ukitake-taichō was at the back of the room, leaning against a sturdy upright, and it was him who was singing - to two utterly entranced small boys who were snuggled, one each side of him, on the quilt-piled sleeping mat. A rope that seemed to have been woven from pure silver light trailed from each child over to Kira, who sat in a perfect seiza just inside the door, with his eyes closed and his hands tight around the pair of swords Ukitake had been carrying earlier.

"They're Sōgyo no Kotowari, taichō's zanpakutō," Rukia murmured beside Yasutora's shoulder. He glanced down at her in confusion.

"Don't tell me, nii-chan didn't tell you about zanpakutō either," Karin said glumly from further away.

Yasutora took one last look inside the room before easing backwards and closing the door behind him. As he and Rukia retook their seats close to the brazier, he said, "A zanpakutō is a shinigami's sword." He wasn't completely uninformed.

"Well, duh," Karin replied. "But did he tell you what they are? I mean, when I found you earlier, I thought you were sitting jinzen, but I guess not. Anyway, you haven't even got a sword to talk to."

Now Yasutora was completely lost. "I fought with my fists," he said. "No one ever gave me a sword." And if they had, he wouldn't have talked to it. That sounded a bit crazy.

"Zanpakutō aren't just swords," Rukia said, "they're part of us. Part of a shinigami's soul that breaks off or grows out of them somehow, and it ends up inside the sword. Look."

She drew her own katana and laid it flat across her knees. It was a nice, much smaller and more sensible than Ichigo's huge thing, and had a red-brown hilt and a brassy-coloured guard, but it was just a sword. Yasutora couldn't see anything special about it.

Then Rukia passed her hand along the blade, whispering under her breath, "Dance, Sode no Shirayuki."

Reiatsu shivered around them, and even though the night was already cold, the temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. The sword shimmered, and transformed, its blade changing from steel coloured to a pure white gold, its hilt and guard to a delicate snowy white as a ribbon of the same colour spilled out from the pommel and across the boards.

Once it was done, it looked completely different, and felt different too. Stronger, somehow.

Rukia looked up at Yasutora, an awed smile on her face, and said, "This is my zanpakutō, Sode no Shirayuki."

Yasutora sat in silent wonder. He'd had no idea that a shinigami's sword could do that. He'd seen them wielding many different kinds of blade, and seen them do amazing things with them, like Ichigo and the power that had destroyed that hollow. But he'd thought that was all some kind of kidō, not the swords themselves.

And the way she spoke about it. Named it.

_Now do you understand?_ the bull's rumbling voice said inside his head. _When you need me, call my name, and I will come._

Yasutora blinked. "I…" he began, and discovered he had no idea how to finish the sentence.

"It is pretty amazing," Karin said. "I haven't managed to get shikai yet." She paused and pointed at Rukia's sword. "That's what that's called, by the way. It's the first level of connection with your sword. The other one is bankai. Mostly only captains have got that. And a few lieutenants, I guess."

"Abarai-fukutaichō had bankai," Rukia put in, resealing her blade and returning it to its sheath. "It was huge, and red and obvious. A bit like him really."

"Don't be mean," Karin grinned, "Just because he mistook you for your sister - once."

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "He's rude and loud and lacking in manners," she said, snippily.

"Yeah, and he's also in jail for something he didn't do, so be nice."

Yet again, Yasutora had lost the thread of the conversation. He'd heard the lieutenant mentioned once or twice around the 6th, normally alongside whispered references to the old captain and Ichigo. If Abarai was in jail, that went some way towards explaining why the whole subject seemed taboo, but Yasutora still had no clue as to why Ichigo was now in charge of the division and what had happened to the last guy.

Maybe this was his chance to find out.

The two girls were still chatting, about katas and meditation techniques, as far as Yasutora could tell. He waited for an opportunity and said, "Is it okay to tell me what happened?"

"With Kuchiki-taichō and Renji?" Karin asked, exchanging a look with Rukia, who shrugged as if to say, 'it's your call'. Karin pulled a face. "I don't see why not. I guess nii-chan'll tell you, as soon as he remembers how to, you know, communicate."

A disparaging mutter of, "Men," came from Rukia as Karin continued, "Renji, that's Abarai-fukutaichō, was accused of trying to kill the captain. His zanpakutō was sealed and he was jailed for some stupid amount of time. And Kuchiki-taichō-"

"Is a traitor against the King who murdered forty-six innocent souls," a light male voice said from behind Yasutora.

He glanced up to find Kira, with a blue blanket in his arms, emerging from the little house. Past him, through the door before Kira closed it, Yasutora spotted Ukitake, now alone and well-wrapped in quilts, sleeping on the bed-roll.

"Nii-chan doesn't think he did it," Karin replied huffily.

Kira heaved a huge sigh, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and sat down with his back to the door. Now Yasutora understood the need for the extra cover. Sat over there, Kira was nowhere near as close to the brazier as the rest of them.

Once he was settled, Kira replied, "That's because your brother's not being objective, Karin-chan. All the evidence points to Byakuya being responsible for the deaths."

"I don't care what the evidence says. He wouldn't have done it!" Karin protested, and at that moment Yasutora could really see how young she was. Time was sometimes difficult to track in the Pits but Yasutora thought he'd been in Soul Society for about three years, which meant Karin was around fifteen. And right now she sounded it, much more the High School kid than a ranking officer in an army.

"He would if he thought it necessary, to get back what he thought was his," Kira argued. Leaning forwards, he tugged the quilt higher up around his neck and said intently, "Karin, your brother doesn't know him like the rest of us. Renji-"

He paused, blinked, and continued, "Abarai-fukutaichō would tell you. Byakuya isn't the nice guy you seem to think he is. He's… well, cruel might be the best way to describe it. And possessive with it. I've seen the marks. Renji - "

Again Kira stopped, this time colour rising on his pale cheeks. "Let's just say, I'm a healer. I know the difference between injuries sustained in battle and those deliberately inflicted."

Seated between them, Rukia was following their exchange like a tennis match, her violet eyes getting bigger and bigger with each revelation. Yasutora could empathise. He was learning more this evening than he'd managed all week.

"You're saying Kuchiki-taichō beat him?" Karin said, tapping her knuckles against her lips for a couple of moments. "Okay, yeah, I'll buy that. But that still doesn't mean he did the rest of it."

Abarai was a shinigami and a lieutenant, and he still got beaten?

Yasutora was still trying to get to grips with that revelation when Kira snapped, "Stop defending him!"

A low moan from inside the room nearby was accompanied by the sound of rustling cloth. Everyone froze, staring at the door, waiting to see if anything else was going to happen. When nothing did, they heaved a collective sigh of relief and Kira continued, much more quietly, though no less forcefully, "Byakuya killed you and your family, for goodness sake, Karin. If that doesn't convince you that he's capable of murdering Central 46, nothing will."

That seemed to take the wind from Karin's sails. She sat silently for a couple of minutes before saying quietly. "I used to think that, about Kuchiki-taichō being a murderer. Back before I got sent to the living world and saw what happens when people like us, with lots of spiritual power, are just left to wander around. If we'd stayed there, we'd have attracted hollows, and then innocent souls just waiting to find their way over would have been eaten. Even if they hadn't been arresting dad, killing us was the only way forward to protect everyone around us, living and dead."

She had a point. It wasn't an experience Yasutora would wish on anyone. Hollows were bad enough when you knew what they were. When you didn't, they were terrifying.

"Not the only way," Rukia said after a moment or two.

Karin's head shot up, eyes narrowing as she glared at Rukia. "What do you mean?"

"They sealed Abarai's spiritual pressure, so why not do the same for you guys? Kurotsuchi had to know how to do it, with all the time he spends cutting people up. Or I bet he could have worked it out if someone had told him to try. Him, or Urahara. Or Aizen. They just didn't want to. They wanted you here instead."

"Because of mom being a Quincy, you mean?" Karin asked.

Yasutora was about to ask what one of those was when Karin shook her head and continued, "No. Okay, maybe some people, yes, but not Kuchiki-taichō. He fought to stop us getting sent to the labs. No way he'd have killed us just for that."

"But he did want you so he could re-establish the Shiba, so you can't say his motives were entirely honourable," Kira argued.

Karin conceded the point with a sigh and rested her chin on her hand. "I guess. But I still don't think he killed Central 46. And neither does nii-chan."

"I think we've already established that your brother isn't exactly objective when it comes to Kuchiki Byakuya," Kira said, tugging his blanket higher.

That was the second time someone had said that about Ichigo. Yasutora got his question in quickly before the conversation could move on again. "Why?"

Karin's eyes lifted to meet Yasutora's. "Because nii-chan and Renji and Kuchiki-taichō were lovers." She huffed a laugh. "He thought I didn't know. Like anyone could miss it. Stupid googly eyes all over the place."

Oh. Oh! Suddenly a lot of the pointed comments that Yasutora had overheard during the past week made a whole hell of a lot more sense. People thought he was what, a replacement in Ichigo's life for the lovers he'd lost?

Did Ichigo think that? Was that why he'd asked about Jackie? Yasutora hoped not. He loved Ichigo and would follow him anywhere, but he didn't think he was wired that way. He wasn't sure he was wired any way.

"Speaking of nii-chan," Karin said, stirring in her seat and stretching, "I never did send that butterfly, so we'd better get back before he breaks out to come find us himself." She looked at Yasutora. "You up for it?"

Was he? With everything that had come his way this evening, Yasutora felt like he could do with a few hours to reassemble his thoughts. Not something he was likely to get back at the 6th. But Karin was right. Ichigo would be worried about them, and Yasutora couldn't do that to him for purely selfish reasons.

Pulling himself to his feet, he nodded at his best friend's little sister. He'd have to ask the rest of his questions later.


	11. Chilling on Thin Ice

The cat was back. It lounged beside the brazier in the office while Ichigo tried, without much success, to catch up on his paperwork. He couldn't concentrate. With Hanatarō gone, the silence was deafening, and every second that ticked by a frightening reminder that it had been hours now and Karin still hadn't been back in touch.

Chad had to be okay though. Ichigo couldn't lose him, not when he'd just found him again. And sending Karin out to look for him had been the right call. She was the best sensor they had, according to Hisana, and for all her bullying on some things, Ichigo trusted Hisana on personnel and skills. Without her, he'd be lost, and he knew it.

After setting his stamp at the bottom of the report summary, he slid the completed page to one side, and reached for the next. It was a letter. A reminder from Yoruichi that he should contact Urahara, make arrangements for whatever magic the guy had that would help Ichigo reach bankai.

His fingers tightened on the paper.

Trusting Urahara went against every instinct. He'd only done it last time because he'd had no choice and look where that had got him. Or more to the point, where it had got Renji. Doing it again would be stupid. But did he really have a choice?

_What d'you think, old man?_ he asked, not really expecting a reply. The last time Ichigo had run the idea by Zangetsu, he'd been met with the same response. Well this time, he wasn't taking silence for an answer. This wasn't his decision to make alone.

Reaching out to where Zangetsu lay in its rack, Ichigo closed his fingers around the hilt, closed his eyes, and deliberately 'let go' of the world. He fell endlessly and soundlessly into darkness, fetching up a couple of seconds later on his hands and knees on the side of an office building.

_Ichigo,_ Zangetsu's voice resonated in his head.

Reassured to finally hear his zanpakutō's voice, Ichigo scrambled up, shaking the wet from his hair. The glass under his trainers was slick with rain. No surprise there. When he'd first been appointed third seat, it had backed off for a while, but the latest shitstorm had brought on a steady drizzle and it hadn't let up since.

He squinted across at the spirit perched on his usual flagpole and called out, "You didn't answer, so I thought I'd better come and talk face to face."

Zangetsu inclined his head slightly and stepped down onto the side of the building. As always, the chains wrapping his body clanked as he walked, restricting his long stride. Ichigo forced himself to watch. It was the least he could do. Those chains were his fault, after all. They had to be. Every time he made another promise or swore another oath, Zangetsu was bound more tightly.

"Urahara made me an offer," he said, once Zangetsu was close enough for him not to have to raise his voice.

Not that he needed to. Zangetsu could hear him even if he just thought the words, and would know everything Ichigo did even without telling him anyway. They were the same person, after all. But speaking aloud in Zangetsu's presence felt more natural.

_Will you take it?_ Zangetsu asked.

Ichigo glanced at him. The old man was staring up at the sky, his glasses and cropped dark hair both misted to grey with damp. The wrappings across his lower face clung and Ichigo could see them moving across his mouth as he breathed. If he could do that, then shouldn't he be able to speak? But Zangetsu never had. Would that change if they achieved bankai, Ichigo wondered? Would some of these bonds melt away if they were closer to each other?

Or would Ichigo's pain make things even worse.

"I don't know," Ichigo answered finally, dragging his gaze away from Zangetsu and staring out over the sideways cityscape that made up his inner world. "My family, the division, I've got to protect them, and the only way to do that is to achieve bankai."

The silence from beside him reached new depths, then Zangetsu said, _It will be dangerous. _

Yeah, not really big news. Ichigo grimaced a half-smile. "It's Urahara, course it's gonna be dangerous. But unless you've got a better idea, I don't think we've got a choice."

_There is always a choice, Ichigo. You choose to spend your days chasing paper. Devote that time to training and all the power you could ever need would be yours within six months._

Ichigo sighed, shoving his hand into his jeans' pocket to jangle the bunch of keys that were always there. This was a familiar argument. "I can't, you know I can't. Byakuya left me the 6th-"

_You swore nothing._

"I didn't have to. These people are mine as much as they were Byakuya and Renji's. If I don't protect them, who'll stop someone like Aizen from walking in and taking them."

_Then your decision is already made._

"Huh." Ichigo hadn't thought of it like that, but he guessed it was. His inner world dropped away, spiralling him back out into reality.

He opened his eyes to find his cheek plastered to the desk, the cat's nose in his ear, and someone knocking at the door. "Enter," he called, sitting up and grabbing the cat as it tried to bop him with barely sheathed claws.

Shin poked his head round the door and said, "Supper, m'lord."

It was that late already? Ichigo glanced at the window, at the darkness and the stars. Where the hell had Karin got to? He'd give it another hour, tops, and then screw what Hisana said, he was heading out himself. In the meantime, refuelling would be good.

His stomach gurgled in enthusiastic agreement as he waved Shin in. "You didn't have to bring it up," Ichigo said, shifting cat and papers as Shin brought the tray over. "I could've eaten in the mess."

Shin shrugged a shoulder. "I think Rami would've killed me if I let ya do that. She's as strict as her father."

Koji's family. Ah, crap. "How are they doing, Rami and erm… ?" Had he ever known her husband's name?

"Unshō, m'lord. And they're fine, considering," Shin said, uncovering the bowls to reveal a single portion of grilled fish, plain rice and mixed pickles served in wooden bowls. Much less than Ichigo was used to getting for his evening meal. "Sorry it's not much," Shin said, "but the head cook said to make sure to tell you that this is what everyone's getting tonight, so I'm guessing that's what you wanted, right?"

"It was. It is," Ichigo reassured him. The cat made a play for the fish. Ichigo fended it off with his chopsticks before giving up, breaking off the tail and tossing it on the floor. The cat stared at the offering for a moment, her tail twitching, until appetite beat out pride and it jumped down and starting eating.

Finally left in peace, Ichigo did the same, shovelling down the rice and helping himself to pickles. Shin hovered by the door, his eyes seeming to track every rise and fall of Ichigo's chopsticks, and a glimmer of his final conversation with Koji came back to haunt Ichigo.

Swallowing down his current mouthful with difficulty, Ichigo asked, "Had yours already?"

Shin jerked, eyes flying guiltily to Ichigo's face. "Erm… No, m'lord. I was waiting for… erm, that is…" Words finally seemed to run out. Shoulders slumping and staring at his feet, Shin muttered, "I was hoping there might be some leftovers, sir."

For the second time that day, food turned to ash in Ichigo's mouth. He put the bowl down and shoved the tray away, just managing to catch the cat before it got the rest of the fish. "Here," he said, "You need it more than I do."

Shin's gaze flicked between Ichigo and the food before he darted forwards, dipped a shallow bow and dragged the tray towards him. He was digging in before the door closed behind him, either too hungry or just not caring that Ichigo could still see him.

Ichigo averted his eyes anyway, petting the cat as his thoughts drifted. According to what Moyu had said, there'd been a feast planned that afternoon for after Jackie's funeral, but with everything else that'd happened, it'd probably been cancelled.

Did that mean Rami and…. Unshō were going hungry too? Ichigo could give orders for them to be fed at the mess just for tonight, but everyone else who normally ate there was signed on with the 6th and extending the catering service to civilians permanently might cause problems.

Another option was to give them money so they could buy meals, but it'd be better if he had his own place like he'd promised he'd do. That way he could provide for all his people properly. Poor Koji hadn't survived long enough to see that happen, but it would be a decent legacy for his daughter, Ichigo reckoned.

All of which was a pipe dream if he couldn't defend the division. Which meant sending a butterfly to Urahara.

"Unless you can take him a message?" he asked the cat, which had draped itself purring over his lap while he stroked its belly.

"Mrow," the cat replied, reaching up his chest with claws bared.

"Yeah, okay, bad idea." Ichigo gave the cat one last stroke before shifting it onto the desk so he could go and retrieve a hell butterfly from the cage in the corner of the office. The message he sent to Urahara was short, to the point, and avoided mentioning specifics on the off-chance it got intercepted.

Watching that butterfly fly out through the window was one of the hardest things Ichigo had ever done. He was halfway convinced that calling it back was the best idea when another knock came at the door. This time the visitor didn't wait for permission to open it, and Ichigo wasn't the least bit surprised to turn round and see Hisana.

Better yet, standing behind her in the shadowed corridor were Karin and Chad.

"Guys!" Ichigo said, knowing he was grinning like an loon and not able to bring himself to care. "You're both okay."

"Well, duh," Karin said, coming into the room as Hisana held the door open. "With the team you sent out, we'd could've taken on the 11th and walked away without a scratch.

Ichigo suppressed a shudder. "Yeah, let's not even joke about that," he said, and turned hopefully to his lieutenant. "Hisana, any chance of tea? Some food?" He hated asking her to run errands for him, but without Hanatarō around, she was the default option.

"Taichō," she bowed and began to withdraw.

Ichigo stopped her with a, "And while you're down there, drum up some dinner for Rami and Unshō, will you? According to Shin, they might not have eaten today."

That made her frown briefly, but she nodded, said, "I'll see what I can do, sir," and closed the door behind her.

The punch to the side of the head that Ichigo received a second later came totally out of the blue and was hard enough to make him yelp. "Fucking ow!" he protested, spinning on his sister, "What was that for?"

"You're an idiot!" Karin yelled back. "How come you've not signed him up?" She was pointing at Chad.

"Because…" Jackie was dead and Chad was obviously upset and Ichigo hadn't wanted to hassle him. But he couldn't say all that. Not in front of Chad. He'd think he was some kind of wuss. Instead, he just scowled and snapped, "I just hadn't, okay."

"You forgot," Karin snarled back. "Yeah, well, it was a damned good thing I found him before anyone else did, because until you sign him up or adopt him or something, he's not a freaking person, you total moron!"

"Shit." He hadn't even thought of that. All this time, sat here worrying, and Chad's formal status in Seireitei hadn't even occurred to him once. Ichigo stared between his sister and his best friend in horror.

"You hadn't even - Argh!" Karin shoved at him with both hands and stalked away to the other side of the room. "You are so crap at this. If Kuchiki-taichō was here-"

"Keep your voice down," Ichigo hissed. Noble's sister or not, if anyone reported her for speaking fondly of Byakuya, Karin could get hauled up on charges of treason.

"Screw you," she hissed back over her shoulder. "You know it's true. He never would have let this happen. He knew how to look after his people and-"

"Fine, yes, I'm crap at being a captain. Who the fuck else is gonna do it, eh? You?" The pressures of the last few weeks crashed down on Ichigo's head. All his mistakes, all his failures. Everything he'd done wrong. He kicked his chair out with a snarl and threw himself into it, just so fucking done with all of the shit.

Silence reigned in the office. Karin, standing by the brazier, still had her back to him, her arms folded and shoulders stiff. She was pissed and was gonna stay that way for days, Ichigo could tell. Over by the door, Chad just looked a bit uncomfortable, like he'd rather be anywhere but here. A feeling Ichigo totally empathised with right now. Unfortunately he didn't have that luxury.

And nor did Karin. Crap.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Ichigo dragged his hands down his face and said, "I'm sorry. I should've thought and I didn't. But nothing happened, so lets sign him up now and-"

The door burst open without even a knock this time. Ichigo caught a brief glimpse of the guards doing a runner before Hisana slammed it shut again. She advanced across the room towards him, demanding in slow, deliberate words, "What the hell did you say to Tashika?"

As she reached the other side of the desk and planted both hands on it, Ichigo leaned back in his chair. "Who?"

Hisana gestured wildly above her head, which was probably meant to indicate someone taller than her. "Tashika Arata. The head cook."

That was his name? Ichigo'd only ever had one conversation with the guy, this lunchtime, so she had to mean: "That everyone should get the same food. Seriously, you should have seen the swill he was serving to the guys in the mess. It looked disgusting."

Instead of being happy about it, Hisana was still glaring at him. Ichigo started to get worried. "Was that not a good thing to do?"

"No, it was really dumb," Karin said from behind him. "Which makes it about par for the course from you today."

That was just about enough. Hanging on to his temper with difficulty, Ichigo ground out, "You know, if you two stopped blaming me for everything and started explaining shit, I might stop screwing up all the time."

Hisana huffed a despairing laugh and collapsed into the chair. For a long moment she stared at the wall, not saying a word, but when she finally turned her attention to Ichigo, the look she gave him was bordering on desperate. "I always forget that you came here as an adult," she said. "People born in Seireitei learn all this during their formal education and the kids in the camps find it out the hard way." She took a breath. "It's simple, really. The more reiryoku you have, the more food you need."

"Okay," Ichigo agreed, "But that doesn't mean people with low levels should end up with the crap."

"It's not crap," she said. "It's a carefully worked out ration that gives them just over what they require when on active duty. The extra lets them keep increasing their levels through training. They want treats, they use their own money."

That… actually made a lot of sense. Ichigo knew he always needed more food when he'd been training hard or when he'd had to fight. Even so, "It looked vile."

"They're lucky to get anything at all. You should see what they serve in the camps," Hisana retorted, then sat forward. "Look, I know you mean well, but the bottom line is, if you try feeding your seated officers the same rations as the men, you'll end up with a mutiny on your hands."

Again, that made sense. "So let's feed the men the same as the seated officers," he suggested.

Hisana stared at him like he'd grown a second head before shaking her own, "No, see, that wouldn't work."

"They'd all turn into slugs," Karin put in, her tone cutting.

"Not to mention that the division can't afford it," Hisana added. "With the cash injections from Kuchiki-taichō gone, we'll be struggling to make ends meet anyway." Intent violet-blue eyes rose to meet Ichigo's. "The regular divisional allowance is for five hundred shinigami. We've got over seven-fifty and next quarter it'll be our turn to recruit again."

She shifted forward in her seat, fingers gripping the edge of the wood. Ichigo got the sense that she was holding herself back even as the words overflowed in a frenetic stream. "Which is going to mean finding space for another forty men. But where? We could build on another training ground, except we've already lost three to new barracks over the past half century. Any more and we won't be able to train properly and that'll mean more injuries and more being shipped off to the 4th when Takata-sensei gets overwhelmed. Which means even more bills we won't be able to pay.

"And that's just the start of the problems. Equipment, clothing. Everything's falling apart. Food rations were about the only thing that were working properly."

And now he'd gone and screwed that up. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Ichigo demanded, mind whirling through the implications. How could they be that over-staffed when they were struggling to cover all the assignments in Soul Society as well as cover their responsibilities in the living world? And how the hell had Byakuya let the division get so out of control? Did he not know, or did he think he could fix things just by throwing money at the problem?

Knowing Byakuya, probably the latter. Well, the Shiba might not be Kuchiki, but he could make sure there were funds available for Hisana if she needed them.

"I only worked it out myself a couple of days ago," Hisana said quietly, visibly pulling herself together. She stood up and snapped a smart little bow. "And it's my problem to fix. I was promoted to lieutenant for my management skills, not my power. That's your department, taichō. Let me handle the recruits."

As she headed for the door, Ichigo thought about the problems he and Renji had had finding somewhere to bed down before they'd discovered the official lieutenant's quarters, which had been full of stuff that he now realised must have been cleared from storage rooms needed for bunk-space. And they had to fit in forty more bodies?

"Can't we just pass on this round?" he asked as Hisana reached the door.

"Recruitment's compulsory," Karin snapped from over by the brazier, following it up with an equally snippy, "Or didn't you learn anything useful when you were shacked up with the captain and lieutenant?"

"What?" Ichigo was on his feet facing his sister before he realised he was moving. Because she didn't know about that. Not really. She couldn't know. She was his baby sister.

His hopes vanished with Karin's next words, muttered petulantly into her chest: "Stands to reason you couldn't have been having sex all the time."

She did know.

And it was true. All those months, while Karin had been in barracks or fighting hollows just like any other shinigami, and Yuzu had been trapped at the 4th all alone, and Dad had been locked in jail. While Uryū and Ryūken were being tortured at the 12th and Chad had been fighting for his life in the Pits, Ichigo had been eating the best food, sleeping in a comfortable bed, and having sex with the guys who'd killed his family.

No, not just sex, having a relationship with them. Loving them. Still loving them.

Guilt hit Ichigo like a punch in the gut, followed up with a wave of nauseating self-disgust.

He was on his feet and reaching for Zangetsu, ready to clear out before he said or did something he'd regret, when he heard Chad's deep rumble say, "On the way home you said it was cute they were together."

Karin spun on Chad, her face reddening as she yelled, "That was supposed to be a secret!"

"Then you shouldn't have used Ichigo's secrets to hurt him," Chad replied, apparently unmoved by her protests.

Ichigo didn't know what to feel. Relief, initially, that maybe his sister didn't hate him for who he loved, though one look at Karin's face showed him she was still hurting. Incipient tears sparkled in her eyes as, hugging herself, she shouted back at Chad, "He deserved it. He's always doing things without thinking about them! And people get hurt. They get taken away!"

Like Yuzu. Crap. Ichigo's unthinking actions in the challenge arena had lost Karin her sister. Her twin. She was only fourteen for fuck's sake. And she'd lost everything.

"I'm sorry," he said. Three long strides took him to Karin's side, and he wrapped her in a hug despite her attempts to shove him away. She gave up a second later anyway, and clung to him instead, burying her face in his shihakushō as she sobbed. Damn it, how long had this been building up? Karin never cried, not once since Mom died. She'd been the strong one. It was Yuzu who cried, never Karin.

And now this. Hisana shot a questioning look at him. Ichigo shook his head and gestured for her leave. There wasn't anything she could do. Karin just needed a chance to calm down and get herself back under control and that would probably be best done without an audience.

Hisana had the door halfway open when Koniwa barrelled through it, almost knocking Hisana off her feet, yelling, "Shiba-taichō! There's trouble at the 13th! Kurosaki-goseki is there and-"

Karin shoved away from Ichigo immediately, swinging round so her back was towards Koniwa and the door. Ichigo glared the third seat, who cut off mid-sentence and said, much more quietly, "Oh, I see she's safe. Thank goodness for that."

Safe now, yes, but the news Koniwa brought was new. "What trouble?" Ichigo asked.

Koniwa looked shifty. "I'm not sure of the precise details, sir. I just heard Ukitake-taichō had one of his turns and Kurosaki-goseki was with him when it happened."

"Is this true?" Ichigo asked Karin, who twitched one shoulder.

It was Chad who answered properly. "It is. We went there after she found me." He paused, as if working through his words, then finished simply, "Afterwards, the captain wasn't well."

There had to be a hell of a lot more to the story than that, but it was enough to explain why Karin, who'd held it together up until now, had suddenly broken down. Having experienced one of Ukitake's 'turns' himself, Ichigo wasn't surprised that it had scared the crap out of Karin.

Her fists tightened at her sides and she muttered, "Get rid of him."

Get rid of who? Ichigo cast a quick glance round the room. Yeah okay, that'd be Koniwa then. Bad enough Karin had been reduced to tears. Having a fellow officer seeing her like this must really suck. He had to go. "I need forms," Ichigo directed his third seat. "Recruitment forms. Find some. Bring them back. Leave them outside the door."

Koniwa's gaze flicked from Ichigo to Karin and over to Hisana, proving his reluctance to leave what had to look like a juicy source of gossip, but he dipped a shallow bow and went without being told again.

As the door closed, Karin heaved a huge sigh, and swiped at her face. As she turned, Ichigo caught a glimpse of tear tracks on her cheeks, but her eyes were dry again and she was back in control. "It wasn't so bad as all that. Ukitake just started talking about Kaien," she said quietly. "And it wasn't like I was alone. Rukia was with me."

A quiet intake of breath from Hisana made Ichigo glance over at her. She had the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, the first time Ichigo had ever seen her worry about anything that wasn't division business. Perhaps she wasn't the perfect soldier after all.

"Don't worry, she's fine," Karin was saying. "Kira knocked him out before anything happened."

Hisana's hand dropped back to her zanpakutō and her expression turned flinty. "Yet again we owe everything to Kira-san," she said, her eyes seeking out and finding Ichigo's. "You were lucky this time. One of these days Kira's not going to be there, and then who will stop that man from destroying them all?" In the wake of those ominous words, she strode from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Ichigo puffed out a breath of air into the ensuing silence, because Hisana wasn't wrong. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Ukitake exploded. And heaven help anyone in the blast radius when he did.

"I need to go too. I'm back on duty tomorrow, early," Karin said a few moments later. She glared back towards Ichigo as she made her way out. "Make sure you sign Sado up before you do anything else." And Ichigo didn't need words to hear the implied threat as to what she'd do to him if he didn't.

He watched her go, so young but professional and competent in her shihakushō and zanpakutō. Fourteen years and a lifetime old, he thought, and look what she'd got to watch out for her. Nothing but a fuck-up of an older brother. What the hell did she ever do to deserve that, eh?

As the door banged shut yet again, Ichigo sank into his chair, propped his elbows on the desk, and rested his head in his hands. What a total shitstorm, from beginning to end. And he'd thought the Central 46 selection committee was bad. Right now, he'd welcome something so boring.

The heavy tread of feet was followed by a creak of wood and Ichigo watched under his eyelashes as Chad slumped across from him in the other chair. He was still wearing his funeral gear and looked about as wiped as Ichigo felt. So, as tempting as it was to interrogate him about just what had gone down at the 13th, Ichigo let it lie. There'd be time later for questions. It was enough that he and Karin were back and in one piece.

"You won't need those forms," Chad said suddenly out of the blue.

Ichigo yanked his scrambled thoughts together and managed to come up with a coherent, "Eh?"

"I'm not signing up."

"You kind of have to," Ichigo replied, scrubbing his hands over his face. "It's the only way to make you a person."

"Karin told me about that stuff on the way back," Chad said. He sat forwards, elbows on his knees. "There's other ways."

"Yeah, well, I'm not making you my servant." He couldn't. That would be beyond wrong.

"What if that's what I want."

"Fuck off." No way. Not happening. Ignoring Chad's eyes on him, Ichigo shifted papers resolutely from one pile to another on his desk, until a large hand slapped down in front of him.

"I'm not being a shinigami."

Ichigo lifted his head to find fierce brown eyes glaring at him. It was a chilling look, and one that, for all the years they'd known each other, Ichigo had never seen on Chad before. Obviously whatever had sent Chad running earlier had been dealt with. Or buried deep enough to let him function for now.

Given no choice, Ichigo caved. "Fine, but you're not being a servant." He just couldn't, not when there were other options. Sworn vassal was one, but that would make Chad Renji to Ichigo's Byakuya and Ichigo didn't think he could stomach that either. There was too much shit tied up in it. "You can be my bodyguard," he suggested.

Chad's eyes widened, and yeah, it sounded stupid given that Ichigo could probably kick his ass five times over currently. Scrubbing a fist through his hair, Ichigo explained, "Mostly it'll be a cover, just an excuse to keep you close and away from the 12th's sticky paws, but it'll be useful too. I'm moving out of the division. I was planning on doing it anyway, but if Hisana's right about space, then I need to do it quick.

"Thing is, if I'm not here, then wherever I am's gonna need guarding properly. I've got people for most of it but…" Ichigo faltered. After what Karin had said, he had no idea how Chad was going to react to this next bit. He pushed on anyway. "I'm gonna need someone to share the night shift with me." His gaze, which had dropped to the desk top, rose hesitantly.

Chad's expression was as impassive as ever. If he was shocked, he didn't show it. After a moment, he nodded slowly, and said, "I'm not sleeping with you."

"Fuck no!" Ichigo yelled, slamming both hands on the desk and scooting backwards, his chair legs scrooping on the wooden floor as he went. "I'd never - I didn't - That's not."

He was panicking so hard, he almost missed it. Just the hint of the curl of a smile at the corner of Chad's mouth. The faintest gleam in his eye. Bastard was winding him up.

Stopped in his tracks, which turned out to be hard up against the wall with his chair held in front of him like lion tamer, Ichigo muttered, "Fucker," under his breath and thumped his chair back into place. "That was really not cool."

Chad shrugged and sat back. "People already think its true."

Ichigo couldn't prevent the wince as he sat down. Damn, he kind of hoped Chad had missed the rumours. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was good cover and, well…" How to explain that Ichigo had a reputation for liking them built?

"I look like Abarai?"

Apparently he didn't have to. Completely. "Not look like so much as…" He kind of half-gestured, but it was no good. Of all the things Ichigo knew he could face down without flinching, discussing his sexual preferences with Chad came only just above acknowledging them to his sisters, or worse, his father, in the list of things he never ever wanted to do.

Letting his hand drop, he stared at Chad mutely, hoping to be let off the hook, only for Chad to totally surprise him.

"It's good if people think we're lovers," he said seriously. "They'll think you've moved on and stop watching you so closely. Then if you need to search, I can provide cover."

That was true, and scarily insightful. Because he was so quiet, it was easy to forget that Chad was bright. He always did better at school than Ichigo. And having that sort of intelligence at his back, as well as Chad's strength and loyalty was exactly what Ichigo needed.

Relief threaded through Ichigo's gut. Whatever else was going wrong, he could face it with Chad behind him. "So, you'll do it?" he asked, already sure of the answer.

Chad nodded, and Ichigo was on his feet again immediately, striding towards the door. Yanking it open, he leaned out into the empty corridor and bellowed, "Shin!" at the top of his voice.

Shin's face appeared from the small room further down. "M'lord?"

"I need a witness, and you'll do." A sudden thought occurred to him. He leaned back into the room. "You got a sword?" he asked.

Chad shook his head. Ichigo peered out again and added, "And round up an asauchi."

Shin, who was almost there replied, "There's none left, m'lord, or so I overheard someone complaining earlier."

No asauchi? Crap. That was really not good. Without zanpakutō the new recruits would be completely useless in the field. They'd not even be able to train properly. They'd have to find more somewhere. Though from where, Ichigo hadn't a clue.

But that was a problem for another day. "Okay, forget it," he told Shin, stepping back and letting him into the room. "Chad can use mine." He didn't think Zangetsu would mind.

The cat, which had made itself scarce earlier, tried to sneak back in too. Remembering the fish he'd never gotten to eat, Ichigo closed the door in its face.

"Are you swearing him as your 'right-hand man', m'lord?" Shin asked, and Ichigo wasn't so stupid as to miss the smirk on his face as he spoke.

He clipped Shin round the back of the head and said, "No, a bodyguard. And quit that. He's a friend, nothing more." It was bad enough the rank and file thinking the worst, without those closer to them doing the same.

Shin glanced at Chad, who nodded slowly, and at that, Shin seemed to deflate. "Just a friend, right. Guess that means I get to keep sitting night watch then," he said miserably.

"What d'you mean 'keep'?" Ichigo asked, going to fetch Zangetsu from the rack. "We're in the middle of division HQ. There's no need for a night watch here."

Shin's expression went from 'oh shit' to guilty in less time than it took Ichigo to cotton on.

Was there no end to the unpleasant surprises he was getting today? Ichigo slammed his empty palm on the desk and demanded, "How long? And who?"

Hands clasped behind his back and eyes firmly on the floor, Shin replied quietly, "Since Kuchiki-taichō disappeared. And me, Koji, and Hisana. Hanatarō, sometimes. We spread it out between us, so it wasn't that hard. It was only a watch. If anyone had come, we couldn't have done much except wake you up."

But it would have made the difference between life and death. Yet more he owed to the people around him. Ichigo didn't have a clue where to even start paying it all back.

No, that wasn't true. He knew exactly where to start with this. Shin was right, with four of them doing it the watch wouldn't have been difficult. But with Koji and Hanatarō gone, they were down to two now.

"You can tell Hisana that from now on, Chad and I'll take shifts as well," he informed Shin, and continued straight over the top of him when he opened his mouth to speak, "That is an order, okay?"

Shin's shoulders dropped again. "Yes, m'lord."

The other thing he could do was make sure they were all safe. Whatever Urahara asked for in exchange for his magic, Ichigo would pay. But right here and now, he would start with Chad.

"Right, now just stand there and witness this." Swearing in clan bodyguards Ichigo knew how to do at least. Unlike the oath he'd sworn to Byakuya, it was the form of words that made this legal.

He ran a hand down Zangetsu to seal it, only to feel the throb of the Quincy cross beneath the wrappings reacting to the power. Crap. He couldn't seal the blade with that in there. Fuck knew what would happen to it, or to Zangetsu.

A loosening tug and he was able to pull the cross out and slide it between the layers of silk in his glove. If either Shin or Chad noticed him doing anything, neither mentioned it or showed any indication. Chad appeared to be half asleep, and Shin was trying to read the topmost of the documents on Ichigo's desk. Old habits died hard, Ichigo guessed.

He sealed Zangetsu and handed the black-sheathed katana to Chad, who stirred and rose to his feet.

"You have to kneel. It's kind of a thing," Ichigo told him. A wrong thing, every part of Ichigo screamed as his best friend dropped to his knees in front of him. But the look Chad gave him wasn't resentful in the slightest. If anything, it was faintly amused. "Okay, you're gonna have to swear an oath on your sword - the sword," Ichigo qualified quickly. It wouldn't make a difference it being his zanpakutō, would it? If it did, they'd cross that bridge later. "Repeat after me, 'Steel and blood bind us.'

Chad obeyed, dutifully repeating the words after Ichigo said them to him, and laying the sword at Ichigo's feet at the right moment. Thankfully it was a quick ritual, designed to let a single person swear several guards in at a time. Once Shin stepped up and bore witness, it was all over.

Ichigo bent to retrieve Zangetsu, and immediately felt the difference. Something had changed about his zanpakutō, though what it might be, he had no idea.

_Old man? _he asked silently as he released the seal and let the power flow back into its usual shape.

_All is well, Ichigo,_ Zangetsu replied, and maybe it was Ichigo's imagination but his voice sounded different from normal. Stronger. Maybe having Chad with them took some of the strain away from Zangetsu rather than adding to it. If so, that could only be a good thing, right?

Rather than replace the sword in the rack, Ichigo slung it into its usual place across his back, feeling his nerves settle along with its familiar weight. "Just the paperwork left," he said, grabbing a clean sheet, and quickly jotting down the characters.

He was just digging out the Shiba seal, which was buried in the bottom of the drawer, when a loud cry and crash came from the corridor. Ichigo had Zangetsu drawn and was at the door before he'd really finished processing what he'd heard. Nerves, he thought, tugging the door open just a little and peering through the gap. Stress. It'd definitely been one of those days.

Though the sight that met his eyes made him really wish he had a camera in his hand for once rather than a sword.

Koniwa was sprawled on his ass in the middle of the corridor, one hand pressed to several bleeding scratches that stretched right down one cheek and onto his neck. The other hand flapped a bunch of documents at the black cat, which was chittering wildly as it used his chest as a launching pad to try, and fail, to catch the hell butterfly dancing less than a hand's span above its nose.

As soon as the door opened wide enough, the butterfly darted towards the gap and for the second time that night, Ichigo found himself slamming the door in the cat's face. "I don't care if you're a spy for the 2nd," Ichigo yelled as it impacted hard on the other side, "No chasing the butterflies!"

A miserable, "Hai, taichō," came from Koniwa.

Ichigo leaned against the door and did his best not to laugh. If he started, he didn't think he'd able to stop. And that probably wasn't the healthiest sign.

"Message for Shiba Ichigo-kun," the butterfly intoned behind him, "from Urahara Kisuke."

With those words, every scrap of humour vanished in a flush of fear. Ichigo turned on the spot, letting the door support his weight. Past the butterfly, he could see Chad and Shin, both staring. If he accepted the message now, they'd hear it. He didn't care. He didn't want to be alone when he got this. Swallowing back nerves, he said, "This is Shiba Ichigo. Go ahead."

Urahara's voice spilled from the butterfly, but not in his usual teasing tones. This was the cool deadly voice Ichigo had only heard once before, up on Sōkyoku Hill, the day Urahara had promised to turn Ichigo into a monster. "I will give you twenty four hours to put your affairs in order," it said. "You know where I'll be. You know what to bring with you. Meet me there at dawn the day after tomorrow. If you survive, you'll be free to return home three days after that, but I offer no guarantees and no promises. Make your peace before you come, Ichigo-kun. You may not have a chance in the aftermath."

Silence like a living thing enveloped the room when the message ended. From behind closed eyes, Ichigo listened to his own heart, counting the beats as though he was already measuring the last moments of his life. But what choice did he have? Without bankai he was a dead man walking anyway, and at least this way everyone else would have a chance.

"Ichigo?" Chad asked.

Opening his eyes, Ichigo flicked a look between Chad and Shin. Worry and curiosity. No surprise there. He gave the door behind him a gentle thump and pushed off it. "It's an offer of training," he said as he strode back to his desk. "And I'm taking it. That bit's not up for argument."

He stamped Chad's registration as bodyguard and stuck in the out-tray to go to the clan's lawyers. Beneath it was a recommendation for a promotion into Karin's old squad. He'd need to check personnel files for that. It was important to get the role filled as soon as possible. Keep the division running smoothly. Keep everything on an even keel.

So, finish this lot up and then there were people he needed to see before he left. If he only had a day, it was going to be tight, timing wise. The Quincy cross pressing against the back of his hand reminded him that there were others besides Karin and Yuzu. He should see Ryūken and Uryū as well. They deserved an explanation, and he could leave the cross in his uncle's hands. That way, if the worst happened, they'd at least be able to use it to kick some shinigami ass.

If the worst happened.

Papers tumbled from Ichigo's suddenly trembling fingers. Rather than try and catch them, he leaned both hands flat on the desk and took a deep breath, trying to control his wildly racing heart. Why was this bothering him so much? It was hardly the first time he'd walked into a situation that promised almost certain death. For fuck's sake, he'd been less worried when him and Renji had been planning the rescue at the 12th, and that'd meant going up against Kurotsuchi. So why was this different?

Him _and Renji._ That was the difference. Unlike then, he was alone this time, with no one to watch his back. No Renji, no Byakuya.

"What do you need?" Chad's question dropped into Ichigo's emotional maelstrom like a lifeline. He might have been asking something Ichigo had no clue how to answer, but his voice was so rooted in reality, so grounded and matter-of-fact, and so full of confidence and can-do, that it calmed Ichigo down just by existing.

Because it reminded Ichigo that he wasn't alone. And that, if he did manage to crawl out of whatever hell Urahara threw him into, there needed to be something here for him to come back to. Which there wouldn't be if the division thought he'd walked out and abandoned them.

The first glimmerings of a plan began to form in Ichigo's mind. It'd take preparations and the three of them alone wouldn't be enough to pull it off. Hisana and Karin at least would have to be brought in to even have a hope of it succeeding. Probably Take and others too.

One more deep breath and Ichigo managed to dig his voice up from somewhere. "What I need…" he began, raising his head to look Chad in the eye.

He met Ichigo's gaze without flinching and another shot of confidence coursed through Ichigo's veins. They could do this. Chad would do this.

It was only three days. If they could keep the lid on things for that long, then at the end of this Ichigo might still have a division and a family to come home to. And if he was lucky, he might even have a best friend.


	12. Shotgun Blues

Renji peered out of the room's single high window at the hollows and their shinigami handlers swarming the skies between the temple and the airport, and wondered why the things you really needed, like quick getaways, never came easily. "Maybe I could lure 'em away," he suggested, shifting his weight so he was taking more of it than the wall.

He told himself the look he got from Byakuya in reply was not pitying. "Even if you were at your full strength, such a battle would be impossible," Byakuya said, returning to his vigil at the open door. "The hollows of Hueco Mundo are as numerous as its sands."

"I heard that was dust, not sand," Renji said, abandoning the wall for another turn round the small room. As he hobbled, he continued, "Made up of the bones of dead hollows that didn't get cleansed properly and just died."

"Yes, and the rabbit which lives in the moon is also real," Byakuya commented and this time there was no mistaking the patronising tone in his voice. Arrogant bastard.

Pride pricked, Renji shot back, "You been there then, mister know-it-all?

That earned him a put-upon sigh. "Once. Many years ago. My uncle took me on an inspection tour of the facilities."

Renji's ears perked up. Like everyone else, he knew Seireitei had a base in Hueco Mundo, but that was all. The details were all 'need to know', which didn't stop people from making wild guesses, of course. "So, do they really dress hollows up in uniforms and make them wait at table?"

"Renji," Byakuya admonished, shooting a strange look at him, "Where do you get these strange ideas?"

Renji shrugged, adjusting the too-tight kosode around his shoulders where it caught on the dressings. "Gossip mill, mostly." His steps had brought him back round to the window again. He stopped and peered up through it. The skies were still busy. "Slavering hordes at the gates?"

"No. Nor is there a giant palace whose walls and floors are paved with gold," Byakuya said, proving he wasn't immune to gossip himself. "There is a small outpost and monitoring station from which the occasional foray is launched when a particularly powerful hollow is detected. The rest, for the most part, are left to their own devices.

"If anything I found the place tedious. Its skies were always dark and starless, the temperature an unvarying bitter cold." He paused, sighed quietly, and added, "Though, of course, I may have been mistaken."

"Yeah," Renji agreed, setting off again. "Kids can miss a lot. Especially boring adult stuff."

When Byakuya didn't reply, Renji wrote the subject off as closed and focused on keeping moving while he was still awake enough to do so. Whatever the old priest had used on his back and legs had definitely made a hell of a difference. It still hurt, but a lot of the tightness in the skin had gone. Now if he'd just heal up enough not to keep conking out all the time, normality might actually be on the horizon.

The faintness of the rumble in his head reminded him it wasn't that simple.

It didn't matter. Renji refused to be cowed. Okay, so his reiryoku was sealed away and Zabimaru was trapped somewhere so deep inside that Renji could hardly hear them. But he could walk again, and he could sense the nue, so he was head and shoulders better off than he'd been when he first woke up. Hells, if he kept up this pace of recovery, he'd have bankai again in six months.

"It's getting late and we need supplies for the journey," Byakuya said suddenly, tugging the sword from his belt and thrusting it in Renji's direction. "Take this, and remain inside. Whatever happens, do not, on any account, attempt to fight."

So I'm just supposed to stand here like a idiot while they kill me, Renji thought. He didn't bother saying it. There was no point starting an argument, and being all officious was just Byakuya's way of watching out for him. Instead, he took the asauchi with an obedient, "Wouldn't think of it, taichō," and closed the door behind Byakuya when he slipped outside to make his way towards the main temple complex.

He probably wouldn't be attacked anyway. They'd been here for several hours now and neither the shinigami nor the hollows had touched down anywhere close to the hut. Mind you, sooner or later they were going to have to leave this place and head for the airport, and that promised to be a less safe option.

Renji peered out the window again. A small group had split off from the main force and seemed to be heading this way. Had they picked up on Byakuya? He was excellent at hiding his reiryoku but it was impossible to shut it down completely. If they had some kind of high level sensor with them…

Less than a hundred feet above the hilltop, they scattered like an firework.

Not Byakuya then. If it was, they'd have homed in on him immediately. Most likely just a standard sweep. Renji should be fine so long as he followed Byakuya's advice and stayed inside.

For long minutes he stayed by the window, watching anxiously in case more hunters arrived or the hut became a target, which was how come he spotted the old priest coming back from his quick trip to the temple's bathing facilities. Renji almost didn't recognise him. The comfy outfit he'd been wearing before was gone, exchanged for a modern-style suit and tie, and he towed his large black case behind him.

"Crap," Renji muttered when he realised who it was. If this was a regular sweep, then the old guy would almost definitely attract the hunters' attention. He could see shinigami, which meant he had to have enough reiryoku to give off a signal.

The window was a lousy place to watch from. Renji hobbled quickly across the room and cracked open the door. The priest had his head down and was hurrying towards the hut like he knew someone was after him.

He wasn't wrong. Just a few short yards from safety, a shadow moved up behind him. The old guy had just enough time to drop his case and turn around with his hands raised before a shinigami in a sleeveless shihakushō grabbed him by the front of the jacket and slammed him against the wooden wall of the hut. As they spun past, Renji caught a glimpse of a leering grin and black and yellow eyes.

Sleeveless meant 9th division. What the hell was one of Muguruma's lot doing with hollow eyes?

"You know what I am, human?" Renji heard the shinigami snarl.

"D-demon?" came the strained reply.

"Try shinigami!" The wall shook and Renji winced at the idea of that frail old body being slammed around too much.

"Yeah, piss yerself old man, just start talking." A high rattle of a laugh followed. "I wanna know if ya've seen any others like me. Maybe hanging around trying to steal shit from your shrines?"

So that was what they were doing. It made sense. The hunters couldn't look everywhere, but they could ask the humans who might have seen something and then narrow things down from there.

"Please, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just an old man. I don't know anything."

As begging for your life went, Renji'd heard better. But then he lived in Seireitei, so there was a lot of it about.

Pressed against the wall, he peered through the crack in the door again. They must have moved. From where Renji stood, they were almost close enough to touch.

The shinigami still had the old boy by the jacket, held so far off the ground that his toes were dangling. That probably wasn't good. Renji seemed to remember that you had to be careful with humans if you didn't want to break them. The priest's hands were clamped round the shinigami's, shaking as he tried to get free.

"Well, if ya don't know anything, there ain't no point keeping ya alive, is there?" the shinigami snarled, shoving harder. The old guy grunted. He was starting to go an unhealthy red colour. Could he breathe properly held up like that?

Shit! Were the hunters killing all the humans with reiryoku that they found?

Renji spared a despairing thought for other potential victims, and then put them out of his mind. There was nothing he could do for them, but this one was different. Beyond the fact that the old priest had fixed Renji's back, which made him an alright guy in Renji's book, he and Byakuya needed him! Without the priest, they wouldn't have a hope of getting out of this place in one piece, let alone making it all the way to Karakura.

"Sir, please!" the priest was saying. It was gasped. Pained. Renji's fingers tightened on the hilt of the asauchi as from deep in his soul came a distant angry roar. "You're hurting me. Please, I don't want to die."

He didn't even stop to think. The door slammed back, and Renji was through it, swinging as he went. The shinigami turned, dropping his prey, but it was too late. His head flew from his shoulders. It bounced across the pathway and fetched up against a tree, as the body dropped twitching at Renji's feet.

Renji stared at it numbly, hardly able to believe that he'd actually managed to pull it off. Without shunpo, he should have looked to the shinigami like he was moving in slow motion.

"Renji!" Byakuya's arrival was so fast it made the body roll over, and that was when it hit Renji: the shinigami had been about his size, and he was wearing a shihakushō.

He lunged forwards, hauling the body out of the spreading pool of blood. His back screamed at the sudden movement and he couldn't prevent his hiss of pain, but he hung on to his prize, turning to Byakuya and gasping, "The shihakushō. Quick!"

Byakuya's eyes widened for a split second before he too lunged forwards, nimble fingers making short work of ties and stripping cloth. Once he was done, a spare set of clothing that might actually fit Renji hung over one arm.

"I told you to remain in the hut," Byakuya said, thrusting the clothing at Renji and grabbing the asauchi. He glanced up at the hollow-infested sky, jaw tightening. "However now is not the time to discuss your woeful lack of obedience. I will conceal the body, and then we will leave, with luck before more of his kind arrive. "

That sounded like a decent plan. As Byakuya strode away dragging the shinigami's decapitated form behind him, Renji turned to find the priest slumped against the wall with his head in his hands.

Was it the blood? There was enough of it, on the ground and spattered up the old guy's arms and neck.

Painfully aware of the throbbing pain in his back and legs, Renji lowered himself to one knee beside him. "Hey, hoshi-san, you okay?"

"Arisawa," the old man murmured.

"What?" Renji queried, leaning closer.

A bright eye gleamed through gnarled fingers. "My name. It's Arisawa, not priest, or old man, or anything else you and your friend decide to call me."

Renji had wondered, but it had got past the point where it'd been polite to ask. "Arisawa-san, then. Did that…" he rolled a couple of choice terms over his tongue, discarded them as inappropriate, and opted for, "That shinigami, did he hurt you?"

Arisawa shook his head and sat up, puffing out a long breath of air. "I've had much worse and survived it," he said. He was a better colour than before, though his hands trembled where they gripped his knees.

"Can you stand? Byakuya wants to make a move."

"I think so. Though your friend may have to carry the cases down to the car." As he spoke, Arisawa glanced over Renji's shoulder.

Renji followed his gaze to find Byakuya rejoining them already. His expression was coldly furious and Renji winced on the inside. Yeah, explaining this screw up was gonna be a barrel of laughs. Though it wasn't like Renji could've done anything else. They needed Arisawa alive.

"The car?" Byakuya enquired.

"Yeah, and you're carrying the luggage," Renji said as he levered himself to his feet and helped the old guy up. The shihakushō he bundled up and stuck under his arm. He'd have liked to put it on, but there was no time right now. And it wasn't like he was totally naked. He was wearing underwear and a shirt.

"I was on my way to tell you that the car's here," Arisawa continued, as they set off at a fairly unsteady pace. "Unfortunately the driver isn't permitted to use the emergency access road, so we're going to have to handle the steps ourselves."

Renji thought about the steep hill that fell away from the temple down to the city below and winced. This flat ground was difficult enough.

"It is of no matter, I can carry you," Byakuya said, and that was just about it. Renji had had enough of Byakuya's officious coddling.

"No freaking way," Renji told him. The look he got for his trouble was annoyed but he didn't care. "Look, it's bad enough in shunpo. Walking the regular way, you'll drop me half way down. No seriously," he added, when Byakuya seemed about to interrupt. "I'll wriggle. It'll be terrible, like trying to hold on to a snake."

"Then I shall put you to sleep again," Byakuya said, already heading towards Renji with his fingers out-stretched.

That was worse. Renji deflected the incoming kidō by shoving the shihakushō bundle at Byakuya instead. "And what if they catch up with us? With me asleep and Arisawa to look after as well, you're gonna be so screwed."

Taking the spare clothing, Byakuya looked from Renji to the priest and back again, and Renji could almost read his thoughts. _The human is expendable, except this time he really isn't. I would need to protect him as well as Renji. _ Byakuya's chin dropped, his eyes fluttering closed as he said, "So what would you suggest? Walking such a distance under your own power will be difficult. Your legs are already bleeding again."

They were? No wonder Byakuya looked cross. Even so, Renji wasn't getting carried around like some damsel in distress. "I don't care. I'm walking, and that's final," he snarled, and stomped off down the path towards the first flight of steps. The effect was somewhat marred by the limp, but Renji felt it said what he needed it to.

Despite his worries, the trip down proved more nerve-wracking than painful. Renji clung to the handrail and half-walked, half-slid from step to step as, above them, hollows screamed as they hunted across the sky. Trees covered most of the route, but Renji still felt like a worm on a fishing line as they inched their way downward. Or maybe it was a broken-winged bird being tracked by a fox. Whichever, he definitely felt obvious and exposed and way too vulnerable.

Which was dumb, really. He had Byakuya behind him, watching his back, and even with a suitcase in one hand and the spare clothes in the other, he'd be there if Renji needed him. And the priest was in front, matching Renji step for step, making sure he didn't slip. He was fine. They'd make it.

Even so, Renji found himself trying to go faster anywhere the trees didn't provide cover, his heart racing every time someone else appeared on the route in case they were another shinigami and not some innocent human traveller. By the time they got to the bottom, his knees shook as much from the strain of not breaking and running as they did from the descent.

When steps became road, and a blue and white vehicle came into sight, Renji hung back, keeping to the shadows as Byakuya handed the suitcase over. The priest took it and pottered forwards, waving and calling out, "Kotobuki-kun, good to see you again."

Kotobuki, the driver, a young guy with a heavy jaw and thick glasses, got out of the car and greeted Arisawa with a respectful bow. "Good to see you as well, Arisawa-san. I hope you've had a nice stay."

As the pair exchanged pleasantries and Kotobuki put the case in the trunk, Arisawa opened the back door of the car and then seemed to change his mind and climb into the front.

That was their signal to join him. Renji glanced up at the sky. Was it his imagination or was it busier than it had been? As he was wondering what that might mean, Byakuya's fingers closed round his wrist and together they shot across the exposed piece of road. Getting into the car was no fun, but Renji managed it in a painful scramble, leaving Byakuya just enough time to slip in after him before the driver slammed the door closed and headed round to get in himself.

"More hunters appear to be heading this way," Byakuya said, as he craned his neck to peer up at the sky. "Please, tell the driver to hurry. We need to get to the airport and leave this city as soon as possible."

"There's another two hours before the flight departs," Arisawa said, earning himself a strange look from Kotobuki for the non-sequitar.

"You okay, hoshi-san?" he asked, pulling away from the kerb. "It's a long walk down that hill and that case is heavy."

"I'm fine. I've walked steeper hills than those in my time. Now please, get this old man to the airport so he can go home and see his children."

Though Arisawa's assurances seemed to convince the driver, they fell on deaf ears in the back of the car.

Two hours before they could leave. Worse still, while they waited they'd be stuck in the airport. A public space. If more hunters caught up with them there, there was a good chance any fight would take out innocent human bystanders, not to mention doing a fuck ton of damage to a crucial bit of infrastructure.

Renji didn't know what to think. Or do. He clung to the door handle as the car wove down narrow back streets and tried not to get thrown around too much. How the hell did humans travel in these things anyway?

For a long while silence reigned in the car. Renji shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep the weight off his ass, until Byakuya tugged on his arm and guided him to lie down, using Byakuya's lap as a pillow. It was surprisingly comfortable and the purr of the engine combined with fingers stroking through what was left of his hair was enough to make Renji's eyes heavy.

"Even if what Arisawa says is true," Byakuya said eventually in a low voice, "our best option is to slip through their lines and find somewhere to wait close to the airport."

"Not too close," Renji replied quietly. "If they find us and we're right on top of it, we'll have nowhere to run but further away."

Byakuya acknowledged the point with a dip of his chin. "Then somewhere private and concealed. The reiatsu traces from the fight should keep most of the hunters busy for a while. With luck they will think we've taken to the hills behind the temple and waste time searching there. Once the aircraft is ready to leave, we could risk a few steps of shunpo from a hiding place to the airport."

A movement by Renji's leg turned out to be Arisawa dropping his cell phone. Byakuya picked it up and squinted at the little machine for a moment, before tucking it into the front of his shihakushō. "Our thanks, Arisawa-san. I assume you will let us know when its safe to come out of hiding?"

The slightest nod was their only reply. Again silence fell. The city flashed by outside the window.

Renji turned his face towards Byakuya's leg, breathing him in. He smelled pretty ripe, like he could use a decent bath, but Renji was sure that he was the same and it seemed like forever since they'd been this close while Renji was still awake.

Byakuya's hand stilled in his hair and then slid down until it cupped Renji's cheek. Grinning to himself, Renji nuzzled into it until he could place a kiss on the palm. At the touch of lips, Byakuya's body seemed to suddenly relax.

Renji was just wondering if anything more might be viable when Arisawa suddenly cried out, "Stop, please!"

Renji bolted upright with a hiss of pain as Kotobuki swerved towards the kerb, the tyres screeching as he braked. "What is it? Are you ill?" he asked.

"The shrine," Arisawa said, age-spotted hand pressed to the glass as he looked out of his window at a tatty torii gate framing a weed strewn path that wound into the gathering gloom. "I know it's only a short flight but it can't harm."

"Oh, okay." The driver sounded bemused, but he parked the car properly and helped Arisawa to get out.

The old priest stood for a moment looking up and down the road before pointing a finger the way they'd been heading and saying, "The airport's about a mile in that direction, isn't it?"

Kotobuki nodded. "Down there and turn right. You can't miss it. Why, are you thinking of walking?"

"My goodness, no," Arisawa replied with a breathy laugh. "I've had quite enough exercise for today coming down all those steps." He squinted towards the shrine. "The path's a bit uneven. Lend me your arm and we'll be done in half the time."

As the pair set off, Byakuya carefully opened the car door and he and Renji slid from the back, dashing quickly for the cover of the trees. Renji's back protested at having to move suddenly, but he ignored it. Twinges he could live with. So long as it wasn't the tearing pain he got when the skin split.

Arisawa was saying a quick prayer in front of a tall stone as they passed him by. For a second Kotobuki looked directly at them. Renji found himself holding his breath, but a moment later the young driver frowned, shook his head, and turned away. If he had seen them, he hadn't believed his own eyes and that was all that mattered.

The main shrine was closed and locked. Not that either of them would have felt comfortable inside. It would be too easy to get trapped. Instead they found a pile of dead leaves behind a shed, under some trees. It was basic, but sheltered and they could see as well as possible given that night was rapidly falling.

The temperature was going down as well, which made it a really good thing that Renji finally had some clothes to put on. Gleefully taking the bundle from Byakuya, he tugged the separate items apart, holding them up against him to check the size. The hakama were still going to be too short, even tied loosely, but they beat wearing only fundoshi by a mile. Renji had been half convinced they'd get as far as the plane, only to have one of the passengers start screaming about the naked tattooed man sitting at the back.

The sleeveless shitagi and kosode fit fine, and Renji shrugged into them with a sigh of relief. Ironically, now he had dressings on his back, it was actually less painful to put clothing over it, even if the cloth was stiff with blood in places. His cast-offs re-joined Byakuya's ensemble and by the time they'd finished, the pair of them were properly dressed for the first time since Renji remembered waking up in the living world.

"Better?" Renji asked, slowly easing down to the ground and settling on one hip, his shoulder propped against the greening wooden wall. Above them, through the bare branches, the occasional figure was just visible against the darkening sky. They did seem to moving away north, back towards the temple.

Byakuya hummed. His relief seemed almost as acute as Renji's own. Toes wriggling in the warmth of both tabi and sandals, he sank down beside Renji, and fished a couple of onigiri out the front of his shihakushō. The least squashed looking one he handed to Renji. "There would have more, except for your ill-timed battle."

Even though he wasn't hungry, and that just never stopped feeling wrong, Renji took the food and chewed manfully on a bite. It was stale, no surprise there.

"Yeah, about that. I know you told me to stay in the hut but if I hadn't of got involved, our ticket out of here would've been dead."

Byakuya nodded, nibbling one edge of his own rice ball. "I surmised as such and under the circumstances I understand why you disobeyed me."

The implied, 'just don't do it again,' rang loud into the silence that followed. Renji sighed, gave up trying to eat, and rested his head against the wall.

"How come you came back to the hut when you did?" he asked.

"The shinigami flared his reiatsu when you attacked," Byakuya replied and shit, Renji hadn't even felt it. No wonder Byakuya had wanted to clear out so quickly. It must have been the equivalent of lighting a beacon.

Byakuya tossed his onigiri to the ground and dusted off his hands, nose wrinkling in a way that Renji was helpless to call anything but adorable. "I swear the standard of cooking has decreased dramatically since I last had reason to eat in the living world," he said.

The obvious retort was something witty about the rice being stale, but Renji was rendered totally speechless by Byakuya saying anything about it at all. Because Byakuya didn't do small-talk. He either had something important to say, or Renji was subjected to hour upon relentless hour of silence. Yet here he was, chatting about human cooking?

"Er, I dunno. When was the last time you had a meal over here?" Renji asked finally when the silence started to get strained. Not while Renji had been his lieutenant, that was for sure. The few times Byakuya had led the division on a mission through the senkaimon, it'd been just that: a single mission. In and out, and certainly no stopping for dinner.

"Not since my uncle died," Byakuya replied. He frowned a little staring off into the distance. "And not for a year or two before that at least."

"So you're talking well over half a century." Renji grinned, hiding it with a quick head duck. "Reckon it's probably you, not the food, that's changed in all that time."

"Ah, yes, that is possible I suppose." Byakuya folded his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms round his shins. His clasped hands were completely covered by the thick cloth of the kosode, and his casualness, combined with the way his hair flowed loose over his face, stripped every scrap of Kuchiki-taichō away.

There'd been a few nights, more since Ichigo had joined them, when Byakuya had truly let down his defences and allowed himself to be the young man he was. And here, tonight, sitting in a pile of dead leaves behind an old shrine, reminded Renji of those times. There was an openness to him, a vulnerability, that'd been totally absent since Renji had woken up.

"Hey, you," he said, reaching forwards and tweaking a lock of hair back off Byakuya's face.

Byakuya hummed enquiringly and turned to him, resting the side of face against his knees and frowning sleepily. He looked like a kid. A slightly grubby, exhausted, blood-spattered kid, Renji thought, catching sight of the brownish streaks on the shitagi at neck and wrist.

The feelings stirring in Renji's gut however were far from child-like. He scootched closer and dropped a gentle kiss on soft, slightly chapped lips before pulling away just far enough to watch the reaction. Byakuya blinked at him, so Renji leaned in again and this time Byakuya stirred, his hand shooting out and capturing Renji round the back of the neck. Renji smirked against Byakuya's mouth as the kiss deepened and Byakuya shifted towards him, rolling onto his knees as his other hand came up, as it always did, to tug on Renji's hair.

Except there was no hair to tug on. Byakuya's fingers closed on nothing and the sad sound he made saw Renji jerking away, his own hand coming up to run self-consciously through the cropped partially-shaved mess.

"I bet it looks horrible," he said, wishing he had a hat or something to cover it up. "A bit extreme, even for prison chic." He couldn't look in Byakuya's direction, his muscles locked in terror of seeing… what? Pity? Disgust? "I don't even remember them doing it, you know? I guess they waited till I was out. No idea why-"

"It will grow back," Byakuya interrupted quietly, which so wasn't what Renji needed to hear.

"The ink won't," he said, gut twisting as he finally put words to the fears he'd been denying since the fog in his head had cleared. He wasn't stupid. He knew the damage that came with a bad whipping. If Unohana-taichō had managed to heal him up right away like she was supposed to, Renji would have been fine. But healing slowly and with his reiryoku sealed the way it was, the scars were going to be bad. That's what the tightness he could feel was. And it wasn't just on his back and legs either. There was at least one on his face, near his left eye, though it hadn't affected his vision, thank crap.

His fingers traced the edges of it, measuring the depth and length, trying to gauge how it might look. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Just rakish, adding to the bad boy effect of the tats and hair-

Fuck.

Renji swallowed hard, shoulders curling in and chin sinking. He must look like something chopped up and chucked away. He didn't even know how Byakuya could stand to be around him.

"I could tell you that looks don't matter," Byakuya said, "But we both know that's not true. But we also both know that beauty is a fleeting thing, the preserve of youth and innocence. It's not for the likes of us, for soldiers and those who measure their lives in centuries rather than years." A cold fingertip traced the scar and then continued from Renji's temple up over his ear and down onto his neck. "What I will say is that he could have skinned you completely and you would still be beautiful to me. Because I see with eyes that know your true appearance, and that can never change."

The words loosened something in Renji's chest, but more than that, it was Byakuya's touch that really undid him. Earlier, in the car, when Byakuya had stroked his head, it had felt nice. This was different. Renji shuddered as the short hairs moved in ways they never had before, when all that weight and length of hair had been in the way.

"You will heal, Renji, I promise." A hand closed around the one lying lax in Renji's lap and lifted it, first to Byakuya's face to be nuzzled and kissed, and then into the slightly oily silkiness of Byakuya's hair. Renji's gaze followed it, drinking in the sadness in Byakuya's grey eyes. But there was no disgust there, no pity. "In the meantime," Byakuya said, with a slight self-conscious smile, "you will simply have to exploit your advantage over me."

Advantage? Renji's brain took a left turn off the tracks of despair as he was hit by a memory of Byakuya on his knees at Renji's feet, eyes glazed as Renji held him by the hair and jerked off on his face. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, grabbing Byakuya and dragging him closer.

Byakuya scrambled to meet him and they collided in a frenzy of clutching hands and searching mouths. "Missed you," Renji gasped as lips slid and tongues battled.

"I've been here," Byakuya replied, his breath hot against Renji's cheek.

Renji groaned, tugged him closer and said, "No, you've not. You've really really not." Byakuya might just have put the kosode on, but it was coming off again as soon as Renji could co-ordinate his fingers enough to undo the ties. "Not you. Not Byakuya."

At the sound of his name, Byakuya whined through his nose and his hands flew to Renji's face, cupping both cheeks and kissing him deeply. Renji panted as his mouth was plundered, Byakuya's tongue sweeping deep and taking possession of him. Although the temptation to submit was strong, Renji resisted, finally ripping the top ties open and shoving Byakuya's shirts down his arms. The lower ties held, turning the clothing into an impromptu straitjacket that pinned Byakuya's arms to his sides.

Byakuya tore his mouth from Renji's and threw his head back, his cry surprisingly loud in night air. The exposed length of pale neck proved too much for Renji. Hissing a, "Hush, someone will hear you," he dove in with teeth and lips, worrying at soft unmarked skin, and feeling Byakuya start to come apart under his hands.

"Renji."

It was breathless, almost agonised, and perfect. Byakuya's hands clutched at Renji's shoulders, his fingers tightening, tugging, pulling him forwards, and, "Ouch! Fuck!" Renji cursed, ducking away as Byakuya released him like he'd just been burned.

"What happened? Did I injure you?"

Easing the double layer of cloth over the dressings, Renji scowled to cover his embarrassment. "I'm good. It just got caught is all and hurt a bit."

"Then I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so carried away."

"Gods don't apologise for that. I love it when you get carried away."

It might be too dark to see a blush but Renji recognised that particular dip of the chin. "Indeed," Byakuya said, shrugging back into his shirts. "However now might not be the best time." He raised his head and peered pointedly upwards through the trees. "After all, we are far from alone."

The howls from the hunting hollows had declined in the past few minutes but they were still there, if further away. Byakuya was right, but there was no way Renji was letting this opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Hey, don't do that up again," he said, reaching out and capturing Byakuya's fingers as they began to retie the shirts.

Byakuya lifted his eyes to meet Renji's, and the night's chill faded like it had never been.

"You must be quiet," Byakuya said, voice barely above a rumbling whisper. Renji's dick twitched, interest that had flagged when the stitches has pulled returning in a surge of heat. He nodded.

"No matter what I do." If Byakuya didn't stop talking like that, it wasn't going to matter.

Painstakingly, and way too slowly for Renji's liking, Byakuya untied the obi holding up Renji's hakama. It released easily, the pants dropping to the ground and pooling around Renji's knees. The fundoshi was next, the length of cloth eased loose and slid oh so gently down his thighs.

As his dick sprang free, Renji let out an inarticulate sound that rose a good octave when Byakuya dropped forward onto his belly and elbows. The next moment hot breath ghosted over Renji's hip and he shoved his fist in his mouth to stop himself from whimpering. His balls were already tight and drawn up against his body. Just one touch and he'd be done.

"Shhh," Byakuya soothed, rubbing circles on Renji's thighs.

It wasn't helping, not when every sweep of his thumb brushed against Renji's sac. He was going too… ah fuck! Teeth sinking into his fist, Renji grabbed himself round the root and squeezed ruthlessly, hips jerking as he fought the urge to come. The burn of damaged muscle and skin helped, taking the edge off the urgency until he could breathe again, even if it was in short desperate pants.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at Byakuya who was staring up at him in amazement. Renji shrugged awkwardly, his body slowly losing tension. "It's been a while."

"Yes, but you've been so sick."

Another shrug. "Yeah, well, I'm just glad my libido's not gone the same way as my appetite for food," Renji said. Because that would have been pathetic. It was bad enough being neutered figuratively without it being literal as well.

"Indeed. Well, if you're quite recovered, I suppose there's no reason to hold back."

That was all the warning Renji got before Byakuya's tongue licked a long hot stripe up the underside of his cock, culminating in a sliding suck over the tip that had Renji curling around the pleasure.

"Ahh," he gasped, hands dropping to catch in Byakuya's hair. "Please." He wanted to say slow down. Or maybe speed up. Or perhaps even stop, though that might just have been the pain talking. In truth, he didn't have a clue what he wanted, but as Byakuya's palms gripped his hips and held him gently in place, and the burn faded beneath waves of more pleasurable sensation, it ceased to matter, because he was getting it anyway.

Deep, tight, wet. His world narrowed to the feel of it, to the drag and slide, the insistent roll of tongue and occasional skim of teeth. Fingers clutching, Renji directed the pace of it, the depth, using that to compensate for not being able to ride Byakuya the way he wanted, with thrusting hips and short grinding jabs.

Slowly control returned. Settling into a rhythm of sharp tug and hold, release and luxurious slide, Renji watched Byakuya's face as he worked. It was surprisingly clear in the moonlight. His eyes were closed, with just the glint of tears leaking from beneath his lashes as his nostrils flared, desperate to grab air when Renji gave him the chance.

Breaking pace, Renji yanked sharply on his handful of hair, arousal surging as he watched Byakuya fight his gag reflex and take it all. The thought, 'his throat's gonna be killing him later,' skipped briefly through Renji's mind, chased away by the flex of Byakuya's ass as he started humping the ground at the same slow speed as Renji was fucking his mouth. And, hot damn, that was so sexy.

But not sexy enough.

"Stop," Renji growled through clenched teeth, "And get up here." He had to pull Byakuya away forcibly and he was reeling as he came upright. Renji caught his face between both hands and forced him to make eye contact. "I love your mouth," he said into glazed grey eyes, "but I love you more. Now kiss me."

Slowly, eyes clearing, Byakuya's hands crept to Renji's face, mirroring his touch, and when he leaned forwards it was almost tentative. Renji closed the distance with a grunt, wrapping one arm around Byakuya's back to pull him in tight. His sensitive dick rubbed against harsh cloth and he half-flexed against it.

"Don't," Byakuya whispered against his mouth. "Let me."

A few sharp movements and Byakuya's hakama dropped to join Renji's. A couple more, and their shirts were undone. Byakuya's arm closed round Renji's waist, finding the undamaged skin over his kidneys, and then finally, they were skin to skin. Renji's breath caught in his throat as his lips sought and found the soft heat behind Byakuya's ear. This was perfect. All he could ever want.

Then a sword-calloused palm closed round Renji's cock. But not just a palm, Byakuya's cock was there as well, their two lengths sliding against each other, finding their place as hips twitched and shoved, and breath passed from one gasping mouth to another. Renji's hand joined the fray, his and Byakuya's fingers interlocking, and at the first proper stroke, Renji's voice sobbed in his throat. He dove in for another kiss, losing sounds in Byakuya's mouth, because yes, this was what he'd wanted. This closeness, this intimacy. To hold Byakuya tight and experience everything with him.

The heat of it, the familiar slide of sweat slick skin. The scrape of nipples, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Renji's free hand hung on to Byakuya's hair as his other, trapped between their bodies, flew up and down their lengths. It was almost too much. Too hot, too tight, their hands too rough. But it was also perfect.

Byakuya moaned into his mouth, his hand tightening beneath Renji's, and then wet heat spilled over Renji's fingers, slicking his cock just that little bit more. Arousal choked him. His body moved of its own accord, hips thrusting those few sharp jabs he needed and then he was gone, riding the pleasure black-out as it took him, stealing thought and breath and everything except more and now and fuck.

He came back to himself a few moments later, leaning against Byakuya's shoulder with his ribs heaving as he fought for breath. Byakuya seemed no better off, going by the way he was panting in Renji's ear.

Renji coughed a laugh and gasped, "Either we're both out of shape, or that really was as good as I thought."

He didn't get a spoken answer, but Byakuya's hand, where it rested against the nape of Renji's neck trembled slightly, as did the lips that pressed to his ear. Renji took that as a win.

Once they were both breathing properly, Renji turned for a kiss. Byakuya returned it silently, his eyes still closed, and when Renji's hand came up to cup Byakuya's cheek, he found it wet. And not just his cheek, his neck and collar on that side as well.

Renji pulled back, catching Byakuya by the chin and squinting at his face. Had he been crying? It was difficult to be sure in the moonlight, but as Byakuya knocked his hand away and stood up, his eyelashes were definitely glistening.

"Why?" Renji asked.

Byakuya glanced back down at him, shrugging his shirts closed and tugging up his hakama. "Is it so unusual?"

Tears in extremis, when he pushed his body to the limits, no.

This was different. But Renji had no right to pursue it. For all these weeks, while Renji had been unconscious, Byakuya had been dealing with all the shit alone. If he was stressed, it was no surprise, and he had as much right to cry about it as anyone.

Hakama tied neatly again, Byakuya picked up the asauchi and went to tuck it through his obi. Renji watched, his heart and gut giving a little twist at the sight. That should have been his, except there was no point in him carrying it. Not with Zabimaru sealed away.

"Won't be long before Senbonzakura's back, eh?" he said, struggling upright himself and starting to put himself back in order. "Where'd you put it anyway?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Byakuya freeze for a split second before pulling the sword back out from its place at his side. "Somewhere safe," he said, and held out the asauchi. "You should carry this."

"What?" Renji said. "No."

"You've proved your worth with it and if they do attack, you should have something to defend yourself with."

Because Byakuya had kidō. It was sound logic. Renji took the sword and slipped it through his obi. He could always give it back, he supposed, but still, something about this whole interaction didn't feel right.

"You sure?" Renji asked.

The glare he got in reply was pure Kuchiki-taichō. "I prefer my soldiers armed," Byakuya snapped, turning to move away, "even if they are half-crippled."

Renji stared after him, because Byakuya hadn't spoken down to him like that for months. Not since Ichigo crashing into their lives had forced Byakuya to admit there was more between them than just a master and his vassal.

But now? Renji hadn't got a freaking clue what their relationship was. Byakuya seemed to be all over the place, one moment trying to make small talk like a lover and saying sweet things about Renji's injuries, and the next ordering Renji around and saying crap like this.

If Ichigo was here, he'd have called Byakuya on it by now. But it was different for Renji. There was too much history, too much weight between them for him to just up and say something. He hadn't even been able to ask about the tears properly.

The tears. Crap.

Renji glanced over at Byakuya, who was standing, shoulders ramrod straight, glaring resolutely up through the trees at the night sky, all traces of his previous quiet vulnerability gone.

Yeah, okay, Renji might have put his foot in it there, drawing attention to a rare moment of weakness. So maybe Byakuya hadn't meant what he'd said, or at least, not as harshly as it'd come out. But it was too late to apologise now. And without Ichigo around to smack some sense into them both, all Renji could do was let Byakuya sulk it out.

Biting back words that he knew from long experience would gain him nothing but hurt silence, Renji knelt in the leaves again, and leant against the damp green-smelling wooden wall.

So much for some quality alone time. Arisawa's call couldn't come soon enough.


	13. Built to Last

Karin's knuckles were white where she gripped the wooden side of her palanquin, and Ichigo totally understood why. These things might look pretty, all lacquer and gilded wood, but as transport went, they sucked.

A cry went up from the front of the procession and yet again the whole thing lurched to a halt. As Ichigo leaned out to see what the hold up was, Karin hissed, "Everyone's staring at us," across the gap between their two vehicles.

Ichigo grit his teeth. They'd been up all night thrashing out this plan, and Karin was an important part of it. Wringing her neck would be self-defeating, but he really wished she'd stop complaining. "That was the whole point," he snarled back and clutched at the wooden wall as they set off again. "Now shut up and smile."

Karin's glare, sharp enough to stab someone to death, narrowed for a brief second before curving into a bright smile, and suddenly a stranger was being carried along beside him. Just like they'd hoped, a sunny expression combined with the make-up and fancy clothes, made for a really effective disguise, because the pampered noblewoman, Shiba Karin, looked nothing at all like the recently promoted Kurosaki-goseki of the 6th division.

Which was exactly what they wanted. Ichigo might be in full Gotei captain's uniform, but he'd supplemented it with the Shiba tanto worn openly at his waist, and Shiba guards marched alongside divisional ones in their escort, because this was a family trip out and if this was going to work, they needed everyone who was anyone to take note and take notice.

But not just of them. If anything, Ichigo and Karin were secondary players in this little drama, there to give context to the main act, who was striding along beside Ichigo's palanquin looking disturbingly sexy.

For all that he'd given loads of guys the eye over the years, Chad had never really registered on Ichigo's radar. He noticed he was good looking, of course, but it had never gone further than that. They were too close. Chad was like a brother, and anyway, Ichigo just didn't feel that way towards him.

_Hadn't_ ever felt that way towards him.

In hindsight, roping Hisana in might have been a mistake. Worse, had been telling her to make Chad look like his new… That was the point at which Ichigo had stuttered to a halt and blushed so hard his ears felt like they caught on fire. She'd got the hint anyway, and the result had thrown Ichigo's preconceptions out of the window. Then leapt after them and done a celebratory dance on the remains.

It was the clothes, it had to be. Hisana had gone with a black and white outfit that managed to echo a shihakushō and yet look nothing like it. White hakama, flared at the bottoms, were cut narrow further up to emphasis the power of Chad's thighs and, topped with a black haramaki, seem to hug his hips as well.

His coat, also in white, had enough calf-length swirl to keep any creature of the night blissfully happy and was open at the chest, leaving Chad distractingly bare from the navel up. The only spots of colour in the ensemble came from the coat's lining, a deep black shot through with shades of pink and gold, and the Shiba mon picked out in the same colour, emblazoned on the back of the coat. As Chad strode alongside the palanquin, the brightly coloured silks caught in the winter sun and shimmered like ever-exploding fireworks.

All of which Ichigo could have coped with, if it hadn't been for the sleeves. Or the lack, thereof. They might have started out a normal length, but they'd been rolled back to expose Chad's arms, and that was where Ichigo kind of lost it. Because along with the muscles, there were gold wrist bands that looked like cuffs, which matched the new choker style collar Chad now wore around his neck, and hey, who knew Ichigo had a thing for accessories that looked like bondage gear?

Ichigo hadn't, otherwise he'd have told Hisana not to stick them on Chad.

Though, the thought of missing out on that view…

Dragging his gaze away from Chad, and the intimate study of his biceps that his libido had been starting to plan, Ichigo checked around the rest of the entourage. The palanquin bearers were shinigami; those carrying Karin, her old team from when she ran missions, and Ichigo's the guys who'd followed him and Renji into the 10th to rescue Matsumoto. In other words, people they both trusted with their lives.

Shin walked a few steps behind Chad, and alongside Karin's palanquin came Koji's daughter, Rami, and her husband, both wearing clan colours. Beyond the household staff strode a circle of Shiba bodyguards liberated from the clutches of the Kuchiki and, guarding the whole shebang, a dozen fully armed shinigami from the 6th. In other words, they were about the most conspicuous thing Seireitei would have seen for a while.

"Ha-alt!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. What now," Ichigo muttered.

Shin took a step forward and bowed low. He was wearing Koji's old uniform and had his mousy brown hair tied up in its tight queue again, as befit the Shiba's new house steward. "Um, I think we've arrived, m'lord."

"Really?" It just looked like just another roadway lined with white plaster walls to Ichigo. "How can anyone tell?"

A crooked grin flashed across Shin's face before he ducked his head and composed himself. "I think they asked."

"That makes sense," Ichigo replied. They lurched into motion again, but this time only for a few steps before a set of gates appeared.

Ichigo's irritation drained away as the palanquins were finally lowered to the ground. Resisting the urge to kiss it, he untangled his legs and clambered out, surreptitiously stretching out his spine as he took a look around.

Since the rest of the entourage had dropped to one knee, he now had a great view of where they were. Imposing gates opened onto gardens that stretched steeply upwards in a series of terraces dotted with neatly trained shrubs and trees. A paved pathway edged with gravel wound between them, and just visible right at the top was a red tiled roof.

"It looks pretty," Karin said, coming to stand beside him.

Ichigo glanced down at her and then back up at the building. Defensively, it was in a great place. Set in a predominantly civilian area on the opposite side of headquarters from the Kuchiki estate, only the 13th lay between it and the western gate in Seireitei's outside wall. If they needed a quick getaway at any point, it'd be perfect, but in the meantime it'd be dead easy to absorb it into divisional security.

Strategically wise? They'd have to see whether they'd judged that right, but Ichigo was hopeful. His entrance had been obvious enough.

"Let's take a look shall we?"

Shin, Rami and Unshō had already gone ahead, presumably to make sure everything was ready. If his staff had been bigger, Ichigo wouldn't have included them in the entourage at all, but seeing as how size was everything when it came to making a splash, every face had counted.

As they started up the hill, the guards fanned out around them. Ichigo had sent an advance group out at first light to make sure the previous owners had taken the hefty bribe and moved out, so the place should have been checked over, but at this point he couldn't be too careful. Normally he relied on speed when he was out and about, but that wouldn't work for this.

Chad dropped into step just behind him. Ichigo forced himself to glance back and smile flirtatiously. At least that's what he aimed for. The way Chad's eyes widened suggested he might have missed. Feeling his ears heat, Ichigo turned back and concentrated on not falling over his own feet.

"You suck at this," Karin whispered as they crossed a painted wooden bridge over a stream that was way too pretty to be natural. "Just pretend he's Abarai?"

Ichigo's blush increased. "I never flirted with Renji either," he replied, stiffly. Gods, this was embarrassing. How could she be so laid back about it all?

"Yes, you did," she said. "You and him were always wrestling in the corridors."

Ichigo's heart thumped at the memories. Damn it, if she didn't stop talking like this, the top of his head was going to pop off. "That wasn't flirting." If anything it'd been -

"What would you call it then?"

"Foreplay." The word fell out of his mouth before he had chance to stop it. Beside him, Karin just kind of froze. Ichigo stopped with her, catching her arm and turning them both so anyone watching would think they were enjoying the view.

It was a good place to enjoy it from. Sweeping green lawns stretched from the pathway down the hill, punctuated by neat flower beds, stands of dark firs and colourful splashes of winter-flowering shrubs. Beyond that, towards the west, lay the solid buildings and glistening waterways of the 13th, and to the east, Seireitei's great sprawl, all white and pretty in the sunshine. It wasn't quite on a par with the view from the top of the captain's quarters, but it wasn't far off.

But the house itself had Byakuya's old place beaten hands down. Standing behind them on the hill, it was about half as big again as the captain's quarters, and from this angle was all curving red tiled roofs, dark wood verandas and delicate opaque doors. The paved path wound towards the back of the building, and Ichigo could see other, smaller structures just past it. It wasn't anything like as grand as the Kuchiki manor house, but it would do for now as the home of the Shiba Clan.

Karin still hadn't said anything. After another few moments of awkward silence, Ichigo murmured, "You said you knew. About Renji and Byakuya."

"Yeah, but I never thought you'd, like, admit it," Karin hissed back, her cheeks still bright pink beneath the white face make-up.

Damn it all, they had talked about this. At least theoretically. The whole plot was based on the premise that Ichigo and Chad would be…

Ichigo took a deep breath. _If you're not mature enough to think it, you're not mature enough to be doing it._

He had to make everyone believe him and Chad were lovers. New ones. New young lovers.

Fuck. How the hell was he going to do that? Sure he play fought with Renji, but that was because Renji was a big idiot who needed to be regularly beaten up or he felt unloved.

Ichigo's relationship with Chad wasn't like that. Chad wasn't like that. If anything, he was more like Byakuya. Cool and calm and quiet. And Ichigo knew for a fact that he'd never flirted with Byakuya. He wouldn't know how to. Byakuya told you what he wanted and you did it. And it was always really good. Thus, like one of Pavlov's dogs, you ended up conditioned to obey. Not exactly the most romantic relationship, but it worked, after a fashion.

None of which helped with the Chad problem.

Taking another deep breath, Ichigo blew it out in short puffs. It steamed in the cold air like smoke rings, before vanishing like it had never been. Fuck it, thinking about things wasn't helping, and he learnt best by doing anyway

He turned, gestured impatiently at Chad to join them, and when he did, looped his arm through Chad's bare one. The skin was cold under his fingers. Chad's outfit might be look good, but it wasn't very practical. Ichigo needed to change that. Find him a coat with sleeves or something.

Without letting himself second guess his actions, Ichigo rubbed his palm up and down Chad's forearm, feeling the fine hairs rise under his touch and chilled skin start to pimple. "What do you think?" he asked. "It's going to be your home as well."

Rather than answer, Chad gazed around the garden. He seemed to actually be thinking about it, which kind of left Ichigo hanging. And hyper-conscious of Chad's massive bulk pressed against him.

Butterflies fluttered in Ichigo's gut and he fought the urge to lean away, or closer. Beside him, Karin shifted in a restless rustle of silk, her gaze flicking to where Ichigo's hand rested on Chad's arm several times before she turned silently and left, continuing up the path towards the house. She looked beautiful, like a painted doll in the weak sunshine. Not like his fierce little sister at all. And yet, she was and always would be Karin, no matter what she looked like.

"I think," Chad said suddenly, jerking Ichigo out of his thoughts, "That any house would be my home if it had you in it, _my lord._"

Except that word, _nushi _wasn't the one people normally used when they addressed Ichigo. Yes, it meant 'lord', but not in that way. It had overtones of master and leader, even god, in the right context. Lover or husband in others. Above all, it was intimate and personal, and totally right for the sort of relationship they were supposed to have.

Chad was flirting with him.

The butterflies that had been resident in Ichigo's belly, climbed into his throat. He tried clearing them, and when that didn't help, ended up making eye contact with Chad anyway.

Deep brown eyes, almost hidden behind messy bangs, and as patient and calm as always, met his. There was amusement there, and trust, and a lot of affection. Ichigo sucked in a much-needed breath, held it for a second, and then replied in a way that sounded obvious and clumsy even to his own ears, "Good, because that's where I want you. With me, by my side."

The thing was, that wasn't a lie. None of this was. The honesty burning in Ichigo's heart as he spoke was reflected right back at him in Chad's gaze. Platonic it might be, but it was a love so deep you could build houses on it. Or life-long friendships.

Or plots to bring down worlds, even if it meant pretending to be lovers.

Given all of that, rising onto his toes and pressing his lips to Chad's didn't feel wrong. There was a sudden sharp intake of breath against his mouth, followed by the slightest of hesitations, and then Chad was kissing him back. And not a chaste little peck either. This was the real deal. Devastatingly warm soft lips moved gently against Ichigo's as Chad angled his head, his hand coming up to cradle the side of Ichigo's face.

Taken by surprise, Ichigo gasped, and that, apparently was all the invitation Chad needed. His arm curled around Ichigo's waist pulling him further up on his toes, as his tongue swept into Ichigo's mouth. Pressed up hard against Chad's chest, knees turning to jelly and fingers clutching frantically at cloth, Ichigo's head spun. The strength in the arm felt so much like Renji, the kiss as dominant as one of Byakuya's, but this was Chad, not them, and much as Ichigo wanted to close his eyes and pretend, he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to anyone.

Shoving all of his longing back down where it belonged, with empty beds and hunting trips to the living world, Ichigo tangled his fingers in Chad's hair, tugged the big guy down until Ichigo's heels were firmly back on the ground and chased Chad's tongue back where it belonged. Chad huffed a laugh and his fingertips dug into Ichigo's ribs. Ichigo squirmed and shoved at his shoulder, and everything slotted back into place with a nearly audible click in Ichigo's mind.

Because that was the thing, wasn't it. That was why Ichigo believed in Chad and their friendship. Whatever Ichigo did or said while they did this would be like warm breath on a winter's day. Any changes would be superficial, and everything would continue the same underneath.

With a final nip at Chad's lower lip, he pulled back, scowl firmly fixed in place. "Where the hell'd you learn to kiss like that?" he demanded.

Chad shrugged. "Around."

But he'd only been fifteen when he died! At that age Ichigo hadn't even been on a date, let alone kissed anyone.

Then again, Ichigo had been some scrawny kid while Chad had looked more like eighteen than fifteen, so as unfair as it was, Ichigo guessed it made sense.

"There's someone coming," Chad said, gazing over Ichigo's shoulder.

"Big guy? Sweating a lot? No sense of style?"

Dark eyes narrowed for a second, then a slight smile curled Chad's lips. He nodded.

"Finally." Ichigo had been about to give up on his cousin ever turning up. He tugged on the front of Chad's kosode. "Let's go again. Ganju's not the brightest bulb in the box and I want to make sure he's got plenty to talk about."

Chad's lips were just as warm the second time round. As they kissed, a shiver worked its way up Ichigo's spine, right up to his fingertips. He buried them in Chad's hair and made a mental appointment for some alone time later. He was so going to need to jerk off after this.

"Shiba-kun! Shiba-kun! There you are - oh!"

Ichigo leapt back from Chad so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Because no way was that Ganju's voice.

Just down the path, standing there with his mouth hanging open, was Kūkaku's husband, Ōmaeda Marechiyo, staring at them in total horror. Even his black hat looked shocked. It stood up like; Ichigo's lips twitched; like he really was a dick-head.

"Ōmaeda," Ichigo said, controlling himself with difficulty. "I wasn't expecting to see you." Crap! Now what. When he'd chosen the house next door to Kūkaku's, he'd been relying on Ganju's big mouth to spread the rumours.

"So I…erm… see." Quickly looking away, Ōmaeda pulled a large brightly embroidered handkerchief from inside his gold coloured kimono and mopped at his sweaty face. It seemed to calm his nerves some since his next words were only a bit stammered. "Your cousin, my darling wife, the woman I am very happy with and adore with all my heart, would love you to join us for lunch."

That wasn't what Ichigo wanted at all. Well screw it, if the guy was uncomfortable maybe he'd leave more quickly and send Ichigo's cousin over. "We would," Ichigo said, "but we kind of made other plans. Together."

"To-ge-ther?" Ōmaeda froze, his piggy eyes flicking back and forth between Ichigo and Chad, and the colour in his cheeks deepened to an almost puce colour. Any moment now, he's gonna stroke out, Ichigo thought. Damn, if that happened, Kūkaku would never forgive him.

Feigning a laugh, he stepped forward, smacked Ōmaeda on the shoulder and said, "Relax dude. My sister's here too. We're just gonna be settling in for now."

Ōmaeda visibly sagged. Another swipe with the handkerchief and, "You were teasing me. Of course you were. You're a Shiba." He glanced over at Chad. "And this would be?"

"He's Chad, my new bed warmer. Being skinny like I am, my feet get real cold in the winter, especially when I'm sleeping alone, so I thought, you know what I need is a big hot guy to sleep with." Ichigo nudged his shoulder against Ōmaeda's like they were best pals, and honestly, he shouldn't say shit like this but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. The guy was such a homophobe. "What d'ya think? Reckon he'll keep me warm enough?"

Beside him, Ōmaeda was virtually quivering in his sandals, his eyes darting around like he was hoping for someone to come rescue him. Ichigo leaned in again, dropped his voice into a sultry whisper, and added, "I bet with all that padding you'd be even hotter. Fancy the job?"

For a second, Ōmaeda didn't move, then he leapt about a foot in the air and several away from Ichigo, who just couldn't stop his hoot of laughter at the expression on Ōmaeda's face. The guy looked terrified, which was beyond funny, really because the last thing Ichigo would ever do would be touch such an ugly, stuck-up, arrogant arse. Even if he was married to Ichigo's cousin.

"Ichigo," Chad said warningly, just as someone shunpo'd up behind Ichigo and smacked him round the head with what felt like a lump of iron.

Ichigo yelped and spun round, one hand clutching his abused head, to find Kūkaku behind him, fist waving, and the filthiest scowl on her face. And fuck did his cousin ever do scary. "What the hell do you think you're doing threatening my husband like that?" she demanded, pointing over at Ōmaeda, who now had a pretty little blond girl wearing a pink flowered yukata helping him up towards the house. Ichigo's house, which he hadn't even been inside himself yet. And probably had all sorts of personal stuff lying around in it.

"He was being an homophobic asshole," Ichigo snapped in reply, gesturing to Chad to go with them.

Chad dipped a bow and shot off up the hill.

"Homo-what?" Kūkaku asked, and she looked so genuinely confused that Ichigo actually pulled up short for a moment. Because it was true that not once since he'd arrived in Soul Society had anyone looked at him sideways for being in a relationship with two guys.

"You know," he said, a bit hesitantly, "same sex couples? Guys together, or two women? And people get hung up about it?"

"Why would anyone get hung up about it?" Kūkaku huffed, before frowning and tugging on her lip. "Unless they've broken marriage contracts or progeny treaties. Now that I could understand. Without those-"

"No," Ichigo interrupted before she could get carried away. "That's not…" He paused. "You mean no one gives a damn if guys and girls sleep together?"

"Cousin, no one in Seireitei cares if you sleep with a hollow, so long as you're a citizen and haven't broken any contracts," Kūkaku replied.

That took the wind totally out of Ichigo's sails. "So what the hell…?" he muttered, looking up the hill at where Chad was now helping Ōmaeda, while the little blond girl bounced along beside them chattering a mile a minute.

"It sounded to me like you were threatening him," Kūkaku said, "but seeing as how you're reacting like this, I'm guessing that's not what you were aiming for."

Ichigo shook his head. "Not a threat. Just… trying to scare him, I guess."

"Well, that much worked." Another pause. Kūkaku ran her hands back and forth across the gold cloth obi that held together her rust and brown kimono, a pensive expression on her face as though she was arguing with herself about something.

Eventually she muttered something rude under her breath, looped her arm through Ichigo's and started off up the hill, following the path as it curved away from the house behind more trees and then back around again. "You've probably heard people talk about how my husband's a vain sort of a guy. It's true. In his mind, he's a hell of a catch in the looks department, so finding out his new cousin's got a type," she waved a hand in the general direction of the house, "and that he's not afraid to take what he wants, well, that's terrifying to Marechiyo.

"It happened to a distant cousin of his, years ago now. Some shinigami took a liking to this boy and issued a challenge. The family couldn't buy anyone to fight this particular senior seated officer, so off the kid went. Didn't last long, so I heard. The kid never came home again. You're a captain. If you decided you wanted him, no one could stop you."

"Fuck." Ichigo felt sick. The difference in power had never even occurred to him. It put the whole interaction with Ōmaeda in a different light, one that turned Ichigo into the sort of bully he'd always despised. His lips thinned. "I'll apologise."

Kūkaku shook her head, "No, don't try that, you'll just confuse him. Let me tell him it was all a big joke. He'll assume it was some Shiba thing and forget about it. For a whimpering sack of shit, he bounces back pretty quick." They rounded a corner, followed the path through a sturdy looking gate, and suddenly a large courtyard opened in front of them.

Enclosed on three sides by buildings and on the last by a high wall with a single corner tower, most of the yard was laid down to sand and dirt, a training area, that butted up against what had to be servants' quarters and barracks for the house guard. Closer to the main building and lining the path up to the main entrance of the house, someone had put in a traditional garden with rocks and gravel and a few strategically placed mossy branches. A planting of bamboo kept the two areas separate.

From where he was standing Ichigo could see five guards. There were probably others. It seemed like that kind of place.

In the pretty bit of the garden, close to the house, Chad stood with his arms folded, a couple of feet from Ōmaeda, who was slumped on a large rock beside a large ornate brass clock. He'd taken his hat off and his thinning hair waved like spider's legs in the breeze. The little blond girl knelt his feet, holding both his hands and gazing up at him sympathetically.

Kūkaku flashed a smirk up at Ichigo and said, "Watch this." She strode forwards, calling out, "Hey, husband-mine. I heard ya fell for Ichigo's wind-up, ya great idiot."

At the sound of Kūkaku's voice, Ōmaeda raised a pasty pale face and whimpered. And then, like the words were hot air being breathed into him, him re-inflated; shoulders going back, chest puffing out, head rising until he was brimful of himself again. "Hah! A jest! Of course it was. I knew that all along." He beamed at Ichigo. "Such jokers, you Shiba are, and you know just where to hit a man. It's a good thing I was clever enough to spot it or you might actually have had me worried there."

Ichigo laughed back weakly. Kūkaku had been right, the guy really did bounce back. That did it, Ichigo refused to feel bad.

"And just to prove there's no hard feelings, we've been invited to lunch!" Kūkaku concluded, and the smile she aimed at Ichigo was downright evil. "Cousin Shiba said it was the least he could do."

* * *

With a contented sigh, Ichigo put his bowl and chopsticks down, and leaned back, his belly finally full after the best meal he'd had in forever. Rami was a genius. Seriously. He had no idea how she'd had managed to produce that much decent food at no notice. She'd kept apologising for how poor it was considering who she was serving, but as far as Ichigo was concerned, if this was what was going to be waiting for him at home, he was never eating in the mess again. Which he guessed would leave more for everyone else, so that was a win all round.

Inside, the new place turned out to be pretty much what Ichigo expected; all traditional-style tatami mats and sliding screens, and though the layout was different, in essence it was just like the captain's quarters. There were even a few pieces of furniture that he remembered from there, like the lacquered tansu in the living room, and even the table they were eating off. It was a good thing they had it too, because there was quite a party for lunch.

Karin sat on Ichigo's right. She'd finished eating a while ago and was now fending off quick-fire questions from the little girl sitting beside her, who turned out to be Ōmaeda's kid sister, Mareyo. Ichigo hadn't even known he had one. It was a pity Yuzu wasn't with them, actually. Those two would get on great guns. Unfortunately, Karin wasn't chatty like her sister, and so the conversation was turning out a bit one-sided. Ichigo thought about trying to help out, but he knew even less than Karin about ikebana.

There was no help to come from Chad's direction either, though his inclusion at the table seemed to finally put Ōmaeda's fears to rest that Ichigo was really in the market for a body slave. Seated on Ichigo's left, a place no slave would ever be asked to occupy, Chad had been working slowly but steadily through anything put in front of him and while he was at it, creating a useful buffer between Ichigo and his cousin, who was at the other end of the table beside her husband.

Ōmaeda, no surprise there, was still eating at top speed. Stacks of empty dishes had accumulated round him like trash on a high water mark. It was actually pretty terrifying just how much the guy could pack away. And when he wasn't feeding his face, he spent the meal speechifying about everything from money to military strategy, proving that he had too much of the former and no knowledge of the latter.

Ichigo had mostly ignored him, too happy to be eating finally to worry about topics of conversation, and anyway his own stack of empty plates suggested he shouldn't be too quick to judge anyone else. Kūkaku was no slouch either, though at least she had the reiatsu to use what she ate. Fiery and sharp, it flared periodically when conversation with her husband turned heated.

Here they went again. "Time to go, husband-mine," Kūkaku was saying.

Ōmaeda squinted at her over the top of his bowl. "Already?"

"Yep. I promised the accountants, so move it."

Giving the table a long sad look, Ōmaeda said, "Bentō?"

The doors rattled in their tracks as Kūkaku's reiatsu spiked. "Mareyo, be a good girl and walk your brother home before I have to kick him down the hill," she said, and going by the way Ōmaeda scrambled to his knees, she wasn't messing about.

"Yes, oba-san," the girl said, popping up onto her feet. She bowed to Karin and then Ichigo. "Thank you very much for lunch. It was lovely and your new house is very pretty."

"You're welcome," Ichigo replied, because the kid really was cute and it wasn't her fault her brother was an ass. Karin just sank deeper into her seat, totally failing in her hostess duties.

Which left Ichigo having to see them out. Ōmaeda took forever to go, even with his sister swinging off his arm, but finally they were being escorted down the path by Shin and Take, who was out of her palanquin bearer's costume and back in her shihakushō. "Any further orders, sir?" she asked before she left.

"Privacy," Ichigo replied. "And double check that static mods have been installed round these walls too. I don't want some idiot thinking he can sneak in the back way while we're out."

She grinned and bowed, before shunpo'ing off to catch up with Ōmaeda and his sister.

Going by the clock, they had about an hour before they needed to be moving again. Ichigo went back inside to join the others, who'd moved into the little tea room at the other end of the house. And found the alcohol apparently, since Kūkaku was sprawled on a cushion beside the irori, a bowl of sake in one hand. Byakuya would probably have a fit at the sight of a tea room being treated this way. Ichigo didn't actually care. The sunken hearth made this the warmest room in the house, excluding the kitchens, so it was good place to sit as far as he was concerned.

"So, little coz," Kūkaku said, sitting up to lean one elbow on her knee and resting her chin in her hand. "I finally have you alone without a damned Kuchiki escort. Reckon this my chance to ferret out all your dirty little secrets?"

"You mean, I've some left you haven't ferreted out?" Ichigo said, giving her a narrow-eyed look as he sat down on the empty cushion next to Chad.

That earned him a bark of laughter and a hand slapping down on the mat.

It was strange watching Kūkaku. Her clothes were all elegance and femininity, yet even dressed like that she sat and moved more like a guy. It reminded Ichigo of the way Yoruichi carried on. Maybe it was a True First clan thing, not caring what anyone thought of you.

Chad jerked him out of his thoughts with an poke in the arm and handed him a bowl of sake. As Ichigo took it, Kūkaku said, "The question I really want answered is where that father of yours found a Quincy to shack up with in Soul Society. I thought Kurotsuchi cut 'em all up centuries ago."

A spike of reiatsu came from Karin's side of the room. Kūkaku raised an eyebrow and turned her attention that way. "You think he was wrong, girl?" she asked.

"I don't see how it could have been right," Karin replied through gritted teeth. She'd let her hair down and had the pin in her hands, and Ichigo was momentarily glad that she wasn't armed today, or Kūkaku might have found herself fending off an attack from a zanpakutō.

"That's because you know nothing about Quincy," Kūkaku said, taking a sip of her sake. "I know your mother was one, and I'm sure you loved her, but that doesn't change the fact that her kind are evil."

"Just because they absorb reishi?" Ichigo shot back, not prepared to let that one pass unchallenged. "I can do that."

Kūkaku snorted in amusement. "I know, I was there when you did it. And one hell of it stink it caused too, until someone put out the story that it'd been some kind of fancy new kidō. If they hadn't, there would've been people screaming for you to be stuck up on the scaffold for the Sōkyoku to take apart."

That, Ichigo hadn't heard about. Though he had wondered how come his true identity hadn't been common knowledge all over Seireitei. He'd assumed it was something Byakuya had done, but maybe not. Byakuya hadn't been in a fit state to do much straight after the challenges.

"And for good reason," Kūkaku was continuing, "The Quincy killed a lot of good people during the last war, your grandparents included."

"What?"

Kūkaku raised her eyebrows and gave him a look. "No one told you?" Her shoulders dropped, "Eh, I guess I understand why. There's not many who still remember them except the old school."

"Kyōraku mentioned dad's father." What had his name been? Elbow propped on his knee, Ichigo nibbled his lip, trying to remember.

"Shiba Itto," Karin put in, her voice flat and her eyes firmly on hands still clutching the hairpin. "Obaa-san was called Ukitake Hanaike. They were killed during a Quincy ambush near Hamburg about three hundred years ago."

"What?" Ichigo said again, not even sure what he was questioning; how Karin knew all this stuff or the fact that he was apparently related to Ukitake-taichō.

Karin glared at him beneath her brows. "Didn't you ask anybody about anything?"

He'd tried, but no one he spoke to ever seemed to know anything. Or be willing to tell him. Probably because he always had either Byakuya with him, or Renji, who everyone knew reported straight back to his captain. "Fucking Kuchiki," he muttered into his sake bowl. He swigged it back and held the bowl out for another.

Chad obliged, refilling Kūkaku's drink as well when she leaned over and waved her bowl at him. "Eh," she said, "Don't blame Byakuya for everything. Boy's an ass but his heart's in the right place. Even if he did cripple my little brother."

Kūkaku still looked torn about that. In a way, Ichigo kind of understood, but it was too late now. He couldn't change what had happened. He could speak honestly about Byakuya though. "He thinks he's protecting people," he said, "And all he's doing is isolating them. Controlling bastard."

"That's not true," Karin said, eyes lifting just enough to glare at him. "If you ask him straight out, he'll tell you anything."

How come his and Karin's experiences of Byakuya were so different? Ichigo didn't get that at all. "Eh," he said, shrugging it off. He didn't want to fight with her about it. Not today. "So, how come you know about this family stuff anyway?"

Karin shrugged a shoulder. "Kira told me some."

"Kira Izuru from the 4th?" Kūkaku asked, and when Karin nodded, she frowned. "Ya might want to be careful getting too close to that one," she said. "I heard he spent years outside the wall after his family got debt-sold to the Iba."

Ichigo almost sprayed his sake everywhere. "Iba?" he choked.

Beside him, Chad froze and Ichigo could feel the wave the power he was fighting to control. Damn.

"You know them?" Kūkaku asked.

"We've met," Ichigo hedged, gaze flicking to Karin and back again.

Kūkaku's went straight to Chad, sweeping him from head to toe in a way that made Ichigo want to throw himself, or something, in front of her to stop it. A knowing smile curled her lips. "I wondered where you got this one from. Gotta hand it to Chikane, she's got good taste in men."

Her eyes slid reluctantly away, returning to Ichigo. "That's what young Kira was doing before the caravan he was with got hit, or so they say. Kid did a runner or got snatched or something." She shrugged. "Either way, he managed to survive, but they say it made him a bit odd."

Ichigo knew nothing about life out in Rukongai. He only knew it through a shinigami's eyes; district numbers and patrol patterns, geography and the wild out of the way places where hollows hid. Trying to survive out there as a kid alone would be enough to break anyone's mind.

It'd certainly explain why Kira always looked a bit haunted. And why he seemed to think he owed so much to Renji.

Kūkaku had turned to Karin again. "But he told you the truth about your grandma. She was the great-granddaughter of Ukitake Jyūshiro's brother." Kūkaku glanced over at Ichigo. "That's how come your father was apprenticed to him. He was family, as well as one of the strongest captains around." Her expression darkened. "It's sad to see how far he's fallen."

The silence that followed her words was painful. Trouble was, the subject Ichigo wanted to bring up was almost more so. Before he could speak, Karin stood up. "I'm going for a walk," she announced. "It's too nice to be cooped up like this." But her posture and tight expression as she stalked out told a different story. That run-in with Ukitake's madness was still taking its toll.

Ichigo didn't have a chance to look at Chad before he said, "I'll go with her," and got to his feet.

"Chad," Ichigo said as he reached the door. Chad paused and looked back. Ichigo had meant to say, 'take care of her,' but apparently his expression must have suggested something else since Chad strode back over, ducked down and dropped a kiss on Ichigo's lips. "I'll be waiting when you're ready, my lord," he said, quietly.

Though not so quietly that Kūkaku didn't hear, and it was absolutely her lewd cackle and not Chad's kiss that made Ichigo's cheeks heat.

As soon as the door closed behind Chad, Kūkaku leaned forward and patted Ichigo on the arm. "I'm glad to see ya moving on, kiddo. I know it hit ya hard, losing the Abarai boy and Byakuya, but this is for the best. You'll see." For a second she looked almost sympathetic and then a wide grin split her face. "And in the meantime, have a great time with the stud," she hooted, swinging a friendly punch at him that Ichigo only just managed to duck. "Damn, that is one hot hunk of muscle. He fuck as good as he looks?"

Ichigo's ears started to burn. No way was he having this conversation. Not with anyone, and definitely not with his female cousin!

"Tell me about Izumi Miyako," he said, changing the subject completely.

As he'd hoped, that brought Kūkaku up short. "Eh?" she said, sitting up and paying attention.

"Izumi Miyako, fukutaichō of the 7th. Or was, before I killed her."

Kūkaku sobered. "Yeah, I heard about that," she said, leaning over and retrieving the sake bottle. "Bad business."

"She was hollowfied and it was out of control. I had no choice," Ichigo replied flatly. "Her captain said I should speak to you about her."

"Did he say what about?" Kūkaku asked, splashing another drink into her bowl. At this rate she was going to be plastered.

"No, just that it should be you," Ichigo replied. "But something Izumi said made me think she was more than friends with Kaien at one point."

Kūkaku winced. If Ichigo hadn't been staring straight at her, he'd never have believed it. Had it been the mention of her brother's name, or Kaien's relationship with Izumi that had caused it?

As Ichigo watched, she swigged back the entire bowl and refilled it again, before carefully putting the bottle back down. "It was hell after Isshin killed all the Kuchiki," she said. "We used to be nobodies, me and Kaien. Just branch family kids. No one cared much who we ended up with. It wasn't like it was gonna affect the clan any.

"I was seeing a guy in the 10th. Nothing serious, it was just fun. Kaien and Miyako though, that was for real. She was the daughter of a tailor. Seireitei born, but common. And beautiful too." Kūkaku's eyes went distant. "That kind of internal beauty, you know, that just shines out from the inside."

Ichigo knew exactly what she meant, because Miyako hadn't changed. Except when she'd hollowfied, she'd been beautiful right up to the end. "What happened?" Ichigo asked.

Kūkaku's gaze snapped back onto him. "Your father, that's what," she snarled, taking another gulp of her drink. "Isshin killed a clan-head, an heir and two other Kuchiki. No one was gonna rest until someone had paid for that. Granddad Mitsuda…" Kūkaku paused, swirling her bowl as she stared into it, her dark brows pulled down into a frown. "He was a Central 46 judge when it happened. Instead of taking his own life, he volunteered to be made an example of and ended up being publicly executed by Sōkyoku." She shrugged. "I dunno, maybe he thought they'd spare the others? If that's what he was hoping, it didn't happen.

"They killed him and went back for more anyway. Though he was the only one of our branch they took. Kaa-san and tou-san were dead already, and I dunno if Granddad Mitsuda did a deal to spare us kids, or if they just wanted the ones closer to Isshin, but they left us be." She sighed, finished her drink and put the bowl carefully on the floor.

"In the end it was uncle Otoya's family that really copped for it. Pretty much all their branch got picked up, but it never got as far as executions. They were all shinigami, officers in the 3rd. They took the soldier's way out and from what I've heard, people were glad of it too. There wasn't much stomach for seeing them taken out one after another. Not when the man everyone really wanted to see punished was nowhere to be found."

Ichigo swallowed thickly. No wonder Byakuya had never told him this bit. These people might have died years before he was born, but they'd been family. And their deaths had been all Dad's fault.

"Otoya was your dad's younger brother, your uncle, by the way."

Like Ryūken, except closer if he'd been dad's brother. And there'd been more cousins. All dead now.

Fuck. Had Dad known what would happen to his family when he ran? No wonder he'd had odd mood swings, and why he'd clung so hard to memories of Mum.

If she'd known.

Yeah, that wasn't the sort of thing you kept secret from your wife, and Mum was one of those who loved everyone, no matter who they were and what they'd done. Maybe Isshin had got the forgiveness he needed from her. After she died, he'd always seemed a bit lost.

Kūkaku hadn't finished. Leaning back on one arm, she continued, "Back then, Kaien was third seat at the 13th. Ukitake had already offered him the lieutenancy, and given a few years to train up, we reckoned that he'd have a good chance of retaking the 3rd from Ichimaru, getting it back in Shiba hands and starting to rebuild the clan's name. But that'd take money and connections."

She sighed, and sat forwards, legs folded tailor fashion. "You've got to understand that the Shiba were never rich like the Kuchiki, so by the time the compensation was paid, there was no property left to speak of, and no money either. There was just me, Kaien and Ganju, and he was a baby, not even walking yet. All we had was us. We had no choice but to marry for the clan."

Byakuya had mentioned this once. "That's why you married Ōmaeda?" Ichigo asked, quelling an instinctive shudder.

Kūkaku inclined her head. "I know what people think, what they say. He's so fat. He's such a slug, how can you stand to be near him? He's stupid, arrogant.

"It's all true. He's definitely all those things. But you know something else, he's also the only one who came to me _himself_ after it all happened. There were a couple of other offers, from rich men who wanted a pretty girl to marry, but they all came through third parties like they were ashamed to be seen speaking to us."

A lop-sided smile curled Kūkaku's lips. "Not Marechiyo. He waddled straight up our front path and demanded to speak to my brother. He actually asked permission to court me properly. Knowing how desperate we were, he still treated us like True First clan members, with respect, and that's how I knew that he was the one I'd accept."

She laughed quietly, not much more than a huff of breath. "So what if he's fat and stupid. He cares about me and treats me well. He took in my baby brother, and brought him up like he was one of his own. He listens to my opinions, lets me sit on the boards of his businesses. Everything I have might be his, but everything he has is mine as well, and being as how he's the heir to the Ōmaeda fortune, I came out well ahead on that deal. It's not perfect, but it works, and I'm happy."

The corners of her eyes crinkled, turning her expression into something more like her wicked grin as she added, "Mostly happy. Though, when you're moving on from your new muscle man, you could throw him in my direction. I could use a new footman."

Ichigo wasn't going to touch that suggestion with a ten foot pole. Plus she still hadn't told him about Miyako. "And Kaien?" he asked.

Kūkaku pursed her lips, reached out for the bottle and upended it over her bowl. Only drops came out. "Typical," she muttered and tossed the bottle aside. It rolled across the tatami and fetched up against the cushion Karin had been sitting on. For a long moment, Kūkaku simply stared at it, as though organising her thoughts, and then she said, "Just what you'd expect. He left Miyako for the sake of the clan. As far as I know, they never saw each other again after that. Kaien got engaged to one of Ukitake's mob. It wasn't the match we'd hoped for, but no one else wanted to attach their daughters to a Shiba and at least the Ukitake are noble and you can't argue that they've got power. Course, Kaien was dead before the wedding happened, so in the end it didn't matter anyway."

She leaned over, retrieved the bottle, and tossed it between her hands, eyes fixed. "I only found out later, after Kaien was dead, and the Shiba were all but gone, and it was all too late anyway… Miyako'd been pregnant when Kaien left."

Ichigo felt sick, Miyako's dying words when she'd thought he was Kaien coming back to him. _"You should see him, my love. He's strong, just like you. And handsome."_ Ichigo hadn't had a clue what she was talking about at the time. Now he did.

"She had the kid." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be.

Kūkaku treated it like one anyway. She glanced up at him, bottle balanced in one hand. "Sure she did. A little boy. He's called Kaito and he's…" She blinked, looking surprised, "Yeah, he'll be going on 50 by now, so I guess he's been walking for a while." A huff of laughter. "Probably running around playing ball and getting scabby knees. That's what I was doing at that age. Anyway, he lives with Miyako's mother in the trading district up behind the 7th." Raising her head, she glanced at Ichigo. "You could go see him if you wanted. Just try not to attract too much attention on them or someone might cotton on and try and grab the boy for leverage. If you want to give them money, you can throw some in the pot. I send a decent weight of coin anonymously every year."

What the hell was Ichigo supposed to say to that? He had another relative out there, that he hadn't known about, that no one was keeping an eye on. "You could have brought him to live with you," he protested.

"As what?" Kūkaku said, gesturing her helplessness. "The Ōmaeda might be rich, but people are right about them being stupid. They're experts in business not politics. The Shiba were all but gone, and I had my hands full keeping the vultures away from Ganju. No way could I have said the kid was Kaien's without hanging him out to dry, so he'd have been a servant and living out his life serving his family like they were better than him. No way was I gonna let that happen. Staying where he is, he's at least got a chance of growing up his own man and, if he's got half the power his parents' had, he'll sign up with the Gotei soon enough and fight all the way to a captaincy. That's gotta best, hasn't it?"

Of what Kūkaku could offer, maybe, but Ichigo was in a position to do a whole hell of a lot more. Or would be once he had bankai and could actually protect the kid, along with everyone else who was relying on him. He could bring him to the 6th, or to the house. Adopt him, maybe. For fuck's sake, Ichigo's family had effectively or literally killed both his parents, the least Ichigo could do was give the kid another one.

Except what had Kūkaku said? He was living with his granny. The kid already had a family. So just piling in there and dragging him away… No, Ichigo couldn't do that. Take the granny as well? She could look after him here just as easily-

No, this was all wrong. He was doing it again. Jumping to conclusions and making decisions without knowing all the facts. And every time he did that, he fucked something up. Not this time.

He'd visit the kid, and check on the family. Maybe take Yuzu with him. She was good at talking to people so they didn't feel threatened. Then maybe he could make an offer, see if they were interested.

And if they weren't? Then Ichigo would walk away and let them do what they needed to. Though no power in Soul Society would stop him from keeping an eye on the kid.

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo let it out slowly and opened his eyes, to find Kūkaku staring at him with an amused expression on her face. "Not easy, is it," she said, "fighting the urge to rush in and save everyone. If I'd ever had any doubts about you being a Shiba, that just rubbed 'em out completely."

She huffed a laugh and rose gracefully to her feet. "And now, little coz, I am going home, where I plan to spend a pleasant afternoon bullying my husband into giving me a foot rub." Pulling back the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Ichigo and grinned. "Have fun with your new boy-toy, and try not to feel guilty about shit that isn't your fault. There's enough that is without adding to it." And with that, she left, pulling the door closed behind her.


	14. Picasso Moon

Karin was leaning against the corner of the building when Yasutora came out onto the walkway. When she saw him, she pointedly turned her back, so Yasutora returned the favour, keeping his own counsel as he found a piece of wall beside her to lean against. Together they stared silently out over the garden. Despite the season, it was pretty, what with the deep greens, greys and blues of the conifers, and the odd splashes of yellow and red from winter flowers. It was a nice setting. Peaceful. Yasutora took a moment to breathe.

"You can tell Ichi-nii that I don't need a babysitter," Karin said after a couple of minutes.

Yasutora glanced down at her. She was scowling up at him, arms folded inside her kimono sleeves like a little princess. Since he couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't make her even madder, he ignored her.

After a moment or two, she huffed and looked away, following it up with a disgruntled, "He fancies you, you know."

So she had noticed. Yasutora had wondered if that was why she'd walked off earlier. Despite her brave words, she obviously found the idea of her brother having sex weird, which Yasutora guessed was probably normal. Not having siblings himself, he could only go by what others had said.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Karin demanded.

A quick shake of the head sufficed. If she didn't understand, he wasn't about to start explaining that Ichigo being attracted wasn't the same as Ichigo putting the moves on him. Yasutora trusted his friend, that was enough.

"And everyone thinks you've been bought and paid for."

A whore in other words. That hurt, though in truth it wasn't an inaccurate description. Not that Yasutora was going to mention that to Karin. Instead he took a different tack. "How does that affect you?" he asked.

Karin jerked, her eyes going wide as though startled by him answering her at all. For a second her mouth opened and closed silently, then it snapped shut and the scowl was back. "It doesn't," she muttered, turning away again and giving him the cold shoulder treatment.

Yasutora squinted up at the sun, a pale disk against the kind of endless cloudless blue you only ever seemed to get in winter. Weak sunshine fell on gravel and rocks, and tall grasses swayed in the slight breeze. Around and between the beds moved a pair of drably clad figures. Gardeners, Yasutora guessed. One seemed to be stacking straw like old fashioned stooks, while the one following deftly tied the lot into an artistic twist. Protecting the tenderer plants from frost maybe?

"What are you going to do afterwards?" Karin asked suddenly.

Yasutora blinked, because honestly he hadn't really thought about it. All their plans, all their discussions had been about the next week and how they could keep Ichigo's absence from being discovered. No one had mentioned afterwards, which… Damn, now was not a good time to remember how bad Ichigo's long-term planning skills were. It was far too late to pull the plug on this.

"I guess you'll have to have some kind of huge public break-up or something," Karin continued, throwing more fuel on Yasutora's steadily growing worries. Because, going by the way Ichigo's cousin had looked at Yasutora, breaking up might not be a good idea either.

From experience, Yasutora knew just how impossible women like that were to avoid. Jackie hadn't been the only one with 'fans' to service, and though the skills he'd picked up served well when he'd needed to kiss and flirt with Ichigo, Yasutora had no desire to end up as Ōmaeda Kūkaku's boy-toy.

Which meant he'd have to stay with Ichigo. Permanently? When people thought he was a bought and paid for whore, not a lover and friend?

An impression of the life he might have accidentally let himself in for, glimmered in Yasutora's mind, and it wasn't pretty. The small amount of respect he'd managed to win during the short time he'd been around the 6th had been good, but once word spread of his new status, it would be gone. He'd be back at the bottom of the pile, and this time he wouldn't even have the prestige of being known as a fighter.

And the irony of the whole thing was, he only had himself to blame. He knew Ichigo's idea of a good plan was to run in and hit things till they fell over. Why had he let himself think this was any different?

Because it hadn't just been Ichigo's plan. Hisana had been in on it, as well as Shin and several 6th division shinigami whom Ichigo seemed to trust above the rest. Oh, and Karin, of course. The trouble was, all those others owed their allegiance to Ichigo first. He, and the division's well-being and reputation were paramount in their minds. Yasutora's interests probably hadn't even registered with most them. Damn it, they'd not even registered with Yasutora. Even he'd been more concerned with Ichigo and the 6th.

Which, short-term, still had to be his primary concern. Once this was over, he'd point out the problem to Ichigo and they'd find some way of dealing with it. Yasutora trusted Ichigo to put this right once he had the facts.

He was opening his mouth to say something like that to Karin when a gate banged round the side of the house and a light well-spoken voice replied to an unheard question, "He told us about a week," and then continued, "I'm glad it's not any longer. Classes with Tsukishima-sensei are far more interesting than those with Takata-sensei."

A deep laugh followed. "You're only saying that because you've got a crush on him."

"I do not!" the first speaker protested, and despite the denial Yasutora could hear the smile in the voice. "I'm far too well-bred to have a crush on anyone. Not like those disgusting gaki." The tone changed, turning mean. "I caught one of them just the other day drooling all over Tsukishima-sensei and do you know what the revolting creature said when I reprimanded him? That I couldn't possibly understand what Tsukishima-sensei meant to him because I was never in the camps. I mean, honestly, as if I'd ever want to be from somewhere like- Ai!"

The cry of pain came hard on the heels of a slamming door and the crash of things breaking. Yasutora and Karin exchanged quick glances before Yasutora gestured for Karin to stay where she was and stepped round the corner to see if he could help.

Beside the service-entrance towards the back of the house, Unshō was down on his knees, scrabbling at the flagstones for the remains of what had probably been a stack of crockery before he'd dropped it. Standing over him with their backs to Yasutora, and almost obscured by a stand of bamboo, were two figures in Shiba bodyguard uniform, the same uniform Yasutora should be wearing. They had to be the speakers he and Karin had been listening to since there was no one else around.

Yasutora watched, waiting for the inevitable blame game and bullying to start, only to see the slighter of the two figures drop to their knees beside Unshō. "I'm so sorry," she apologised as she started picking up pieces of the broken pottery, "I didn't see you coming out."

As she spoke, her partner opened the door, leaned inside and called loudly for something to 'stick this lot' in.

A woman appeared a moment later, hugging an old basket to her ample chest. Yasutora frowned. It wasn't Rami, nor any of the other casual help he'd seen around the 6th. For one thing her yukata was dark green, rather than the standard Shiba household blue, and distinctive blond ringlets that Yasutora would definitely have remembered, bounced around her doll-pretty face as she smilingly handed the old basket over to the guard.

As the guard took it and knelt down to help his partner, the woman caught sight of Yasutora behind the bamboo. Her smile morphed into an expression of fear. She stepped back, her geta clacking on the flags alerting the guards, who came to their feet, spinning in Yasutora's direction, hands reaching for their swords.

When they saw Yasutora, their attitudes changed immediately. Both dropped into respectful bows, their voices sharp as they snapped out, "Please excuse us for disturbing you, Yasutora-san." Beside them, Unshō also dipped his head, and even the new woman seemed to realise her mistake, bowing low with her hands fisted in her yukata.

Rather than answer them, Yasutora nodded shallowly and stepped back around the corner, only to find Karin staring at him. Something untwisted in his chest. She'd been wrong; not everyone thought he was Ichigo's whore. Perhaps there was a future for him here after all.

"There's no problem," he said, just as a the light tones of the female guard came from round the corner, "I know it's none of our business but you'd have thought his lordship could have picked someone from this side of the wall. Honestly, this new one looks so cheap compared to… well, you know. And to parade him in front of his sister like that. Poor girl. She must be so humiliated to find out she's got a pervert for an older brother."

Karin's expression turned wry as Yasutora's heart sank. Yeah, he'd probably been hoping for too much expecting that what they said to his face would be the same as what they said behind his back.

"Want me to say something?" Karin asked, jerking her head in the direction of the speakers.

Yasutora shook his head. What was the point. It wouldn't change what they thought. Nothing anyone said would, in his experience. Once people had an impression of you, it almost impossible to change it.

"His lordship isn't a pervert." For a second Yasutora didn't recognise Unshō's voice, as a rule he said even less than Yasutora, but husky and unused as it was, his voice was firm and full of purpose when he added, "And Yasutora-san isn't just someone bought for pleasure. He's a strong fighter."

"Yeah? Says who?" the male guard demanded, obviously not believing it for a minute. "Have you seen him fight?"

"Not me personally, but Shin-san-"

"The snitch?" the woman interrupted. "Like we'd take his word for anything. He's probably getting a backhander to spread pretty tales about the new face. I heard he'd actually been signed up as one of us, if you can believe it." She sounded scandalised. "A whore like that as a bodyguard. It'd be funny if it wasn't so insulting."

"I'll tell you what's insulting," another voice said, cutting across the jumble of others. It was sharp and female and really pissed off. Karin grinned at the sound of it and waved at Yasutora to peer back round the corner.

Much as he'd rather have just walked away from all of this, Yasutora did as he was told, just as the woman added, "Hearing folks that should be looking after Shiba-taichō and his family run 'em down in public, that's what."

It was Take, one of the shinigami from the 6th who was in on the plot. Yasutora should have recognised her voice, except she hadn't sounded so mad when she'd been discussing the plan last night. The two bodyguards were bowing deeply in front of her. She didn't look impressed. A sneer crooked her thin mouth as she said, "Now scram before I change my mind and get the pair of you fired!"

The two guards bolted, their footsteps fading rapidly into the distance. Take watched them go, shaking her head as though in disbelief.

Unshō knelt behind her, turning a piece of crockery over and over in his hands. After a moment or two he said quietly, "My apologies, Take-san. I did try to explain-"

She waved him away, not even looking down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Don't sweat it, Unshō. I know you'd not say a word against Shiba-taichō. As for you…" Take turned, eyes narrowing on someone inside the house that Yasutora couldn't see from this angle. "You might show a little gratitude, girl. You'd be at the 12th if Shiba-taichō hadn't agreed to take you in, and after what you did to taichō and the lieutenant as well."

"I know, I'm sorry!" a feminine voice wailed. "But he surprised me lurking there round the corner."

"Round the-?" Take began, glancing up in their direction. "You have got to be kidding me," she sighed in disgust when she caught sight of him and Karin peering round the corner. Karin gave her a little wave, which made Take shake her head again. "I dunno where the hell Shiba-taichō got this batch of guards, but it's a good job they ain't in charge of security that's all I can say."

She glared back at the girl in the house, obviously about to let rip at her for a second time. Unshō got there first, flattening himself in a full kowtow at Take's feet. "Please forgive her, Take-san. She's a foolish girl, but she cooks so well. We truly wouldn't be able to manage without her."

Take looked torn, until Unshō added, "Tsukishima-sensei suggested her for the position. Surely we can trust his judgement."

Take's expression immediately brightened. "Yeah, I'd say. He's a great judge of character. Never known him to make a mistake yet." Adjusting her zanpakutō in her obi, she glared at the cook. "You hear that, Tamiko? It's not just your reputation on the line here, it's Tsukishima-sensei's as well. And if you disappoint him, it'll be worse than the 12th for you, I'll see to it myself."

Whatever reaction she got seemed to please Take because, after nodding briskly, she left Unshō to tidy up the broken crockery and strode up the pathway past the bamboo towards Yasutora and Karin. As she came, Tamiko's voice behind her said clearly if quietly, "Wah, she's so scary. And she looks just like a man."

Take's foot paused for a split second just above the flagstone, her eyes sliding closed. Yasutora could almost see her trying to decide if she'd heard that and whether or not it was worth turning back. The next moment, she'd stalked straight past them and round to the front of the house, where she stood with her hands gripped behind her looking out over the gardens. With her short clipped dark hair and black uniform, she looked like a living shadow against the sunlit world.

Yasutora and Karin followed her and as they drew close, Take murmured, "That is one very foolish girl, who'll end up in serious trouble if she doesn't learn to curb her tongue." Then the anger seemed to drain out her. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. "Having said that, she must have something going for her if Tsukishima-sensei spoke up for her."

"The guy who teaches my sister?" Karin asked, staying back against the house out of the worst of the cold.

Take glanced round at her, a smile softening her face. "I think there's only one Tsukishima-sensei, but yeah, that's him."

"I didn't know you knew him."

The smile turned wistful, a strange look for such a stern woman. "He used to come to the camps when I was tiny," she said, eyes growing distant. "Always had treats and candy in his pockets, a kind word or a hug. Whatever ya needed, he'd be there for ya." Her accent was slipping, back to the sloppy long vowels of Rukongai. "Was the only thing what made it bearable was Tsukishima-sensei being there."

"I'm glad there was something," Karin said quietly.

Yasutora had never seen the camps himself but he'd heard enough stories to agree with her. If this Tsukishima-sensei was good to the camps' kids, he was definitely a decent guy.

With a cough and a grunt, Take came back to herself. Lifting her chin, she said, "We're off as soon as Shiba-taichō's done with his cousin. Are the two of you ready?"

Karin cast a quick glance in Yasutora's direction.

He nodded. His role in this was small. Basically he got to spend the next few days in Ichigo's bedroom pretending Ichigo was with him. By comparison, Karin's job was far more complicated. She had to play princess and fend off even the most determined of visitors to the house while Hisana managed the same thing at the division. Hopefully nothing would come up that surpassed their combined levels of authority. And if it did, they'd just have to find a way to bluff their way through it.

A door further along the veranda slid back and Ichigo stuck his head out. "Yo! I wondered where you guys were," he said, coming out to join them. Instead of coming to stand beside Yasutora, he stayed the other side of Karin, and when he did actually make eye contact, it was fleeting. He was nervous again.

Yasutora stepped up to the plate. Reaching past Karin, he took Ichigo's hand and, watching as Ichigo's eyes got wider and wider, brought the hand up to his lips. Just before they touched, Yasutora murmured in his best 'sexy' voice, "I'm always waiting for you, nushi."

The blush which shot to Ichigo's cheeks was brilliant, in every way. He glowed like a Christmas bauble and the reaction made Yasutora smirk into the kiss. That elicited a particular set of the jaw that Yasutora was very well acquainted with. Challenge accepted. "Excuse us a minute," Ichigo snarled. His fingers tightened round Yasutora's wrist and he dragged him back into the house.

Yasutora glanced back at the others just in time to see Karin's rolled eyes and Take's look of amusement before the door slammed closed and he found himself shoved up against a wall. But rather than shouting or a throwing a punch as Yasutora half-expected, Ichigo kissed him, sudden and sharp and forceful enough to make cold shivers course up and down Yasutora's back.

For a second, with Ichigo pressed against the front of him and the wall behind, he felt completely trapped, and it took every ounce of self-discipline not to lash out. Ichigo must have sensed something because he broke the kiss and stepped back, narrowing his eyes. "You okay?"

Yasutora flattened his hands against the wall and nodded slowly, not able to bring himself to say anything. He trusted Ichigo, absolutely, and this had just proved that his trust was well-placed. Other people wouldn't have stopped.

Taking one more step away, Ichigo nodded himself, then said, "Right, I guess I'll see you when I get back. Don't forget to be waiting for me in the bedroom." It was a clumsy reminder, and his gaze cut away as he spoke, colour blooming on his cheeks again.

Yasutora relaxed, slipping back into control of the situation. "As my lord wishes," he said, and bowed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw white tabi-clothed feet shuffle briefly against the dark boards, before Ichigo cursed under his breath and fled. As the door slammed closed, the corner of Yasutora's mouth tugged up into a small smile.

* * *

"Hey you," Ichigo said, poking his head round the door. "Got time for a flying visit?" Even if she didn't, Ichigo was staying. After the weirdness with Chad and with everything that was about to go down, he needed some normality in his life and Yuzu was about as normal as it came.

Yuzu, who was sat at her desk, glanced up at him in confusion. "Nii-chan? What are you doing here?"

"Nice welcome," Ichigo replied, slipping into the room and pulling up a chair. "I'm gonna to be busy for a few days, so I thought I'd come and check on my favourite little sister."

"But you were only here yesterday," Yuzu said, returning to her ledger and frowning down at the columns of numbers and words. From this close Ichigo could see dark rings under her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, dipping his head to see her face better.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" she snapped, then dropped her pen and covered her face with both hands. "I'm sorry!" she wailed. It came out all muffled and Ichigo started to get seriously worried. "I just… I had a really bad dream last night. Tsukishima-sensei says it's nothing to worry about, that maybe it's my age or overwork, but i-it was h-horrible, nii-chan! I was lost and I c-couldn't find any of you!"

Ichigo was round the desk and had her in his arms in a trice. She buried her face in his chest, and sobbed loudly as he stroked her hair and Ichigo couldn't help comparing how silent Karin had been when she'd done this exact same thing just last night. Both of them reduced to tears, in less than twenty four hours. He was such a shit big brother.

Should he ask her about the dream? No, if she wanted him to know the details, she'd say. And he didn't want to upset her anymore than she already was. Better to let her just cry it out.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Yuzu pulled away, wiping her eyes with her fingers and sniffing. "I made you all damp," she said wetly, pawing at the front of his shihakushō.

Ichigo glanced down at the wet spot. "It'll dry. Won't even mark if you didn't get any snot on it."

"Nii-chan!" Yuzu gasped, staring up at him, looking scandalised by the very thought.

He smirked and poked her on the forehead. "What? You're too perfect to make snot? I remember when you were two and I brought a cold home from kindergarten. You and Karin were, like, snot machines for weeks."

His hand got smacked away, but at least Yuzu was smiling as she turned back to her work. The visit hadn't been a total waste of time.

Ichigo dropped back into his seat saying, "So, hey, what I came to tell you is, I've bought a house."

That got her attention. Slightly reddened but curious eyes met his. "Is it pretty? Does it have a garden? Is there a fishpond?"

Ichigo waved his hands to protect against the barrage of questions. "Why don't you come see for yourself? Once we've got everything sorted. Karin'd love to show you round."

"I believe the arrangement was that you would visit your sister here, Shiba-san," Unohana said from the open doorway, "_with_ my permission."

Ichigo jerked upright in his seat, hand groping for Zangetsu, before he realised exactly who'd sneaked up behind him. When he did, and saw the dark expression on her face, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The woman was freaking terrifying.

"Unohana-taichō-san, I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to come report to you straight away, but I'm not staying. I was just passing by and decided to drop in and-" Ichigo clamped his mouth closed on more words that seemed determined to babble out. He was a captain, for fuck's sake, this woman's equal, not some kid.

Except that she was over two thousand years old and was the first and only kenpachi, and Ichigo didn't even have bankai. Yeah, okay, deference was definitely due.

"Permission, Shiba-san," Unohana was saying, "is customarily sought prior to an event, not afterwards,"

Ichigo's head dropped. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I should have sent a butterfly."

That seemed to mollify her. The terrifying cast to her face faded and suddenly she was just Unohana-taichō, everyone's favourite doctor-mom. "Please ensure you do so in the future. And now, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave. Yuzu has a lot of work today and no time for socialising with a brother she saw a mere few hours ago."

That was a dismissal if Ichigo had ever heard one. And unless he fancied getting tossed on his ass out the front doors of the 4th, he had to go.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he said, standing up to leave.

As he headed for the door, Unohana's hand shot out and gripped his elbow, right over yesterday's bruise. Ichigo yelped, trying to jerk away, and for the briefest second he swore something flexed under his skin before the feeling vanished in a hot wash of healing reiatsu. A moment later, he was free.

"What the hell?" he demanded, hugging his arm across his chest and glaring at Unohana.

"I healed the bruise. The rest should fade in the next few days. Is this a problem?" She gestured to Ichigo's arm where the sleeve of his shihakushō had ridden up. Sure enough the bruise was gone. All that was left was a pale scar shaped a bit like a cross and about half the size of a one yen coin.

Ichigo hovered a finger over it. "No, I guess not." Wow, way to feel dumb. Screaming like a kid because the nice lady was trying to help you. "Um, thanks, I guess?"

"You are welcome," Unohana said, turning to Yuzu. "Say goodbye to your brother."

"Goodbye, nii-chan," Yuzu echoed, already sitting back down.

Ichigo waved at her around Unohana. "I'll see you in a week or so. We'll talk about the house some more." And Ichigo would do his damnedest to get her up there to see it. Maybe once he had bankai and could look after himself, Unohana would take him more seriously.

Lieutenant Yamada was waiting in the corridor, which presumably meant Ichigo was getting escorted off the premises. That was kind of embarrassing.

"Shiba-taichō," Yamada said, dipping a respectful bow. His fine dark hair spilt loose over his face.

"Afternoon." Ichigo shot a wary glance at the guy's power-leeching, injury-reflecting zanpakutō as he strode past.

Yamada dropped silently into line behind him and followed along out of the hospital building. Ichigo kept walking, even as his muscles tensed at having the dangerous fukutaichō at his unprotected back. The memory of Renji exploding like he'd been hit by a thousand swords would always be engraved deep in his mind, proof that, even without bankai, this guy was lethal. Though Ichigo could probably take him, now he knew his weakness. A quick kill was what it'd take. Anything drawn out played directly to Yamada's strengths.

As they crossed the gardens heading for the main gate, Yamada made his move. An extra long stride brought him up alongside Ichigo, who was already reaching for Zangetsu. But the expected draw and challenge never came. Instead Yamada cleared his throat nervously and said, "I was surprised to see a negator attached to the 6th. I was under the impression the old captain there disapproved of them."

Ichigo had a second of 'huh?' before his brain caught up with the question. "Hanatarō? Yeah, ah, he came from the 8th. Why, you think you might be related?"

"Unlikely," Yamada replied. "All my family are long dead."

Right, yeah, at Kuchiki Kōga's hand, Ichigo remembered now. Yamada had been yelling about it when he'd tried to take Byakuya down in the arena.

"Is he still with you?"

Ichigo frowned at Yamada, suspicion rising. "Why d'you want to know?"

A vague shrug met his question. "Negators are uncommon these days. But the surgery which created them is fascinating. Having one to examine would be educational for trainees."

And by examine, Ichigo just knew he meant dissect.

"Yeah, well, you can look the fuck elsewhere," he snapped, striding out through the gate into the roadway beyond. "Hanatarō stays with me."

As the words left his mouth, Ichigo cursed himself for saying them, because it was already too late for that. Hanatarō was gone, back to the 8th and whatever Kyōraku had in store for him.

Sure the little guy had seemed happy there when Ichigo had first met him, but that had been before, when Hanatarō hadn't known any different and when Kyōraku wasn't on a personal warpath against Ichigo. Who knew what was happening to him now. Shit, he might even be in danger from some creep like Yamada. If Kyōraku wanted to, he could even sell him to the 12th.

"Sir!" Take's shout broke through Ichigo's furious worry for his friend. He stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath to regather control. It wasn't easy. He wanted to kill something, preferably with his bare hands.

A whoosh of shunpo heralded his escort catching up. It was Take and Sou, along with Shin, who was a dead man if anyone caught him in that shinigami uniform. Not Ichigo's usual people, not anymore.

That was because his usual escort were back at the house sleeping off a skin-full. It turned out Shin was a dab hand at slipping people a mickey, the reason for which Ichigo never wanted to know given Shin's previous occupation. For this though, it had proved useful, because now Ichigo had people at his back that he knew would keep their mouths shut, even if their own lives were on the line.

"Guys," he said, greeting them with a nod.

They headed north, past what was left of 12th, the part that Renji hadn't brought down around Kurotsuchi's ears, and on towards the Pits. According to Shin, there was a jewelry store on the outskirts which sold the sort of thing that might appeal to a guy with a lot of money who wanted to indulge some dubious tastes. Recalling Matsumoto's relationship with Shin's old captain, Ichigo took the man at his word.

A couple of streets out, they dropped out of shunpo and the second they did, Ichigo felt the same sort of lick against his reiatsu that he'd felt that night down at the Pits.

Hand flying to Zangetsu's hilt, he paced backwards a few steps, watching the rooftops around them. The neighbourhood wasn't the Pits, but it wasn't exactly salubrious either. There could be anything up there stalking them and a captain's haori wasn't always sufficient to put off the truly desperate.

"Problem, sir?" Take asked, her zanpakutō halfway out of its sheath.

Ichigo held his hand up for silence. Had he imagined it? No. Someone had definitely touched him. And if they had, then it must have left a trace. Pressing one finger to the bindings on his right glove, he released seal and held out his bare palm. The chill of the winter air bit deep into skin that was used to be covered. Ichigo ignored it. Right now, that wasn't important.

Trusting the others to watch his back, he let his eyes close and slowly expanded his awareness. The world sprang into a different kind of focus, one full of visible reiatsu and reishi. His own reiatsu boiled yellow and white, blinding until he forced it back under control. Beside him hovered three glowing shapes, Take, Sou and Shin in pale yellow, lavender blue and a deep burnished red. And between them, almost faded from view, a faint track of something pale. Maybe green?

He was about to reach for it when white reiatsu flashed across his senses. With a gasp, he opened his eyes as a familiar black cat dropped from the roof Ichigo had been watching and sauntered towards them. Ichigo huffed a relieved breath. That would explain the lick. It had been the cat. He'd expected the thing to turn up at some point after they'd thrown it out of the office, and seeing it here meant it hadn't caught the rest of their plan. Especially not the bit involving a certain nosey 2nd division cat.

"No, no problem at all," he said, hunkering down and shh-shing at the cat to get it to come closer.

It stared at him like he was crazed for even suggesting such a thing and sat down to begin washing. Damn. Ichigo glanced up at the others. "Any of you got any food?"

"For the cat, sir?" Sou asked, looking dubious even as he fished in his belt.

The twist of cloth he handed over contained bite size pieces of dried meat. Ichigo took a couple and handed the rest back with a nodded thank you. "Now, are you going to be your usual greedy self?" he asked, holding one piece out.

The cat's nose twitched, as did the tip of its tail, but it made no move towards coming closer.

"Stubborn little beast," Ichigo muttered and put the meat down before shuffling back half a pace. He probably looked a complete idiot doing this in full uniform in the street. Not that it mattered. The more people who saw him out here and talked about it, the better. They were still all about visibility.

After a moment of indecision, the cat rose and strolled over to the meat. When it lowered its head, Shin struck, using a concentrated version of the sedative he'd used in the guards' sake. The drug hit immediately, and the cat dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Nice one," Ichigo said, leaning forwards and scooping up the tiny lax body. "We'll leave it somewhere safe. It might be a spy, but it's not an enemy."

"Shirogane'd probably keep an eye on it," Shin suggested.

Now there was an idea. "Sounds good. I'll follow you," Ichigo replied, rising to his feet.

The shop, called The Silver something, was in the next street over. Ichigo stayed outside as Sou played advance guard and checked the place out, so that when Ichigo finally got inside, he found Shirogane, the owner, and what was either his daughter or a very young wife bakudō'd on their knees in front of the counter.

They looked pretty laid back about being there, and it was standard practice for securing potentially dangerous territory, but Ichigo still hated it. Not so long ago he'd been there himself and he still remembered the humiliation.

"Let them go," he told Sou, who dipped a bow and obeyed immediately. Ichigo offered a hand up to the girl, who looked a couple of years younger than him, which probably meant she was more than a century. She look the hand, smiling wanly up at him. Her father, Ichigo decided because otherwise it was just way too creepy, bounced up like ball, and boomed, "Shiba-taichō! What an honour to have you in my humble premises! What can I help you with- Is that a dead cat?"

Ichigo glanced down at the sleek feline form sleeping in the crook of his arm. "Not dead, sleeping. Have you got a box we could put it in for a few hours? Nothing fancy. Just so nothing eats it or treads on it." He glanced around and spotted the perfect thing just under some shelves at the back. "That'd do," he said, pointing to it. It could be a wicker cat box, except they probably didn't have those in Seiretei.

Shirogane, a big guy, with curly blond hair and a ruddy complexion, frowned very deeply and pressed a thick finger to his chin. "Mihane-chan, empty the box so the captain may put his cat in it."

The girl's gaze flickered between Ichigo and her father before she hurried over, opened the box and knelt in front of it. There were books inside, and scrolls, which Mihane quickly began to gather up and place to one side.

Ichigo was about to tell them not to bother, because seriously, those looked like accounting books and that just wasn't right, not just for a cat. Except he couldn't exactly back out now, not after asking, and the kid going to all that effort. Plus, they really did need somewhere to stash the cat so it couldn't follow him. An extra few kan on the bill would have to do as compensation.

Then Mihane was done. She stood up and moved way, a few scrolls still in her arms, as her father said, "Please, taichō-sama," and gestured towards the box.

Ichigo trod forwards, ducking down to avoid hitting his head on the shelf above, and laid the cat in the bottom of the box. The lid was solid but had no lock, which meant the cat'd be out of there the second it woke up. Ichigo turned to ask Shirogane for something heavy to put on top of it, but as he turned, Zangetsu caught on a piece of cloth over something on the shelf above. The cloth pulled free and fell the ground with a soft slither, revealing an ornate silver cage standing about twelve inches tall.

The second the cage was uncovered, something inside it began to sing. Ichigo took a nervous step back, because holy crap that was one huge mean looking bug, but all it did was wave its wings and antennae as the tinny music played.

Not living insect, at all. A robot. A kind of robotic silver cricket and close to, more pretty than creepy. "Mechanical?" Ichigo asked, peering at it more closely.

It was. Tiny brass cogs and pistons moved beneath the cricket's translucent wings, and its legs were jointed and sprung. Kind of like a steampunk design. Karin would love it. She always preferred stuff where you could see the workings.

Glancing over at Shirogane, Ichigo asked, "Did you make it?"

Shirogane's mouth worked for a long moment, the colour rising even more on his flushed cheeks. "I-I… No, my lord," he admitted finally with a deep bow.

"Mihane?" Ichigo suggested, when nothing else got said.

Shirogane shook his head. "It was a friend, my lord. A friend who is dead now, I'm sorry to say. This is the last piece of theirs that I have left."

"I guess you're not selling it then." Damn, that was annoying. It would've made a great birthday present.

"If -if my lord wishes, I could sell it to him," Shirogane said, still in a deep bow.

That was more hopeful. "How much?" Ichigo asked, hunkering down to take another look.

Behind him, Mihane said, "Tou-san?" in a voice that sounded kind of bewildered.

"Hush, daughter," Shirogane hissed.

Ichigo froze, his hand reaching out to touch the bars. This was all wrong. He was fucking up again. Somehow. Pushing to his feet, he said, "Forget it. I'll find something else."

Shirogane hit the ground in a full kowtow. "Please, take it, my lord," he cried. "A gift. From this humble tradesman. It would be an honour for your family to find pleasure in such a worthless piece."

Power. Ichigo had it, these people didn't. What was it Kūkaku had said? _You're a captain. If you decided you wanted him, no one could stop you._

If that was true for a kid, it had to be doubly so for a thing like the cricket. Plus, if whoever it was got pissed enough, they probably took something else as well, like your kid, or your life. And who the hell could say no? Not the likes of Shirogane, that was for sure.

Ichigo felt sick. Was he ever going to be able to have a normal conversation with anyone now he was a captain? Had he ever had one before? He was beginning to suspect not, which was more than a bit scary.

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he glanced over at the girl, who still had the scrolls clutched to her chest and was staring at him like he was about to draw his sword and cut her father in half. "It's fine, honestly," he said, trying to project reassurance. "I don't want the cricket. I just came here for some jewelry." Which, no way could he buy from her. Fuck.

"You got a kettle in the back?" he asked. Mihane nodded blankly. "Good, give me the scrolls and go make your dad a cup of tea, okay? I think he needs one." He'd probably prefer something stronger actually, but tea would have to do.

Large blue eyes stared up at him, but Mihane made no move to obey until, from the floor, came a hoarsely whispered, "Do as Shiba-sama tells you, girl."

That stirred Mihane into action. With a gulp, she held out the scrolls, dipped a quick bow at Ichigo and ran. Once the door closed behind her, Ichigo puffed out a massive huff of air and said, "I am really really sorry about that."

Shirogane peered up at him, eyes assessing as they examined Ichigo's face. After a moment he sat up. "You actually mean it."

"Yeah, I do. I mean, I'm sure you hear shit like this all the time, but I really genuinely would never do anything to hurt you."

A broad grin spread over Shirogane's face. "My lord, I have never had a shinigami say that to me before. They wouldn't care enough about me to bother, which is how I know it's real."

That was some totally fucked up logic and just about what Ichigo had grown to expect from Seireitei. He shook his head in disgust. "People around here need to learn some manners," he muttered. "Right, guys?"

Silence.

Ichigo looked up. Take and Sou were staring at him like he was an alien. Even Shin was looking a bit gob-smacked. "What?"

It was Sou who finally spoke. "It's very strange seeing a noble speak to a commoner so," he said, glancing at the other two like he needed back up.

"I'll say," Take put in. "I mean, I knew you were okay after what you did before, but this…" She stood up straighter and then bowed deeply and formally. "Shiba-taichō-sama, I don't care what anyone else says, you are definitely the right man to be in charge of the 6th."

That was… Comforting and kind of worrying at the same time. "People are saying I'm not?" Ichigo asked, almost scared to hear the answer.

"They…" Take seemed to run out of words. Luckily Shin had no such reservations. "They think you'll get yer ass kicked if anyone comes after you seriously," he said. "I know a few have been talking about trying to find somewhere else."

Some_where_ else was better than finding some_one_ else, Ichigo guessed. He nodded, "Thanks. Let me know if you hear anything else, okay? If anything's brewing, I'd rather know up front."

"Yes-sir," Shin, said, bowing and stepping back.

Great, now he was no better than Ōtorobashi, having people spying on his own division. Well, fuck it, the 6th was Ichigo's responsibility and he was going to look after it the best way he could.

"I need to pick up this jewelry so we can get the hell out of here," he said, rapidly running out of patience for everything that wasn't getting shit sorted. "Shirogane, what have you got that might suit a dark-skinned guy about six inches taller than me and built like brick wall."

Shirogane stared at him for a moment before he said, "Personal wear or public?"

There was a question. But considering the effect they were going for: "Personal."

"And if I may ask, is my lord normally the dominant one?"

For a second Ichigo couldn't think for the images suddenly bombarding his mind. Chad, on his knees, maybe wearing a strap like the one Byakuya had used on him. His mouth open, sucking on Ichigo's cock. How would those lips, that had been so warm and soft, feel around his dick.

Ichigo choked on air as arousal surged through him. With a quiet gasp he shook it off, scrambling to remember what the fuck they were supposed to be doing here. "Yes, yeah. Me, I'm the dominant - top, whatever." Holy shit, this wasn't good. No way could he afford to start thinking about Chad that way.

"Piercings are popular-" Shirogane began.

Ichigo shook his head. No, Chad didn't even have his ear pierced and it wasn't something Ichigo was going to push him to have done.

Shirogane took it all in his stride, and tried again. Going over to the counter, he lifted out a wooden box, saying, "Then how about something less permanent but a bit more playful." The lid flipped back to reveal a selection of things that Ichigo didn't have a hope in hell of identifying. "This, for example."

It was a series of metal rings strung together with leather. Ichigo blinked at it stupidly. Why the hell had he agreed to this? He didn't know what the fuck he was doing. None of this stuff looked like anything he might want to-

"Are those nipple clamps?" he asked, homing in on a silver chain with familiar looking catches at the end.

"Ah, yes, yes, that's exactly what they are." Shirogane put down the contraption he'd been trying to sell Ichigo and fumbled for the chain. He was missing the first joint of his index and middle fingers, Ichigo realised. Finally he managed to lift the length so that it draped across both hands. It looked solid, more real than real, and a visceral memory of the hot heavy drag against his own nipples washed through Ichigo. He reached for the chain.

As he took it, Shirogane said, "If that's the kind of thing you like, they come as part of a set."

"Eh?" Ichigo said, his thoughts still stirring the edges of arousal. Even if Chad wasn't going to use this stuff, maybe he could use it on himself. Now he had a house and some privacy. Damn it all, he could really use some alone time. He felt like he was going to explode.

"How about you put together a bunch of stuff you think the captain might like and send it on," Shin was saying somewhere in the background. It sounded like a good idea to Ichigo.

"Excellent, yes, I can do that. Erm… and the chain?"

Ichigo's fingers tightened on the metal.

"I think his lordship'll take that now."

When had Shin become a mind reader. Best thing Ichigo had ever done take him in.

Taking everything in. Absorb it.

_So hungry. Rip and tear and devour them all._

"Holy shit!" Ichigo threw the chain across the counter to get it away from him. Right now.

"Taichō?"

Take reaching out. Her hand, warm, tasty - "No, stay away!" Ichigo warned her off. She got the message, thank fuck, backing right the hell away. Everyone was staring at him.

Ichigo ignored them, mind whirling. What the hell had that been? Quincy yes, but more. Stronger. As the urge faded, he could almost sense the edges of it. And he'd felt it before. Once. In Byakuya's office when Hanatarō had offered him a kidō to absorb and he'd almost eaten Byakuya afterwards.

"There's kidō in that," Ichigo said, looking up. He was curled round himself he realised, his hands clasped to his chest like he was holding them back. He stood up, suddenly self-conscious. Inside his gloves, his hands began to itch.

"No, no kidō, my lord," Shirogane answered hurriedly. He looked terrified again, and fuck it all Ichigo was so fed up with being the big bad monster.

"There does appear to be something however," Sou said. He had the chain strung between his fingers and he looked sent by the feel of it. "Power, like perhaps it contains reiatsu?"

"That's what makes the stuff here special," Shirogane said. "It's the metals we use."

"Metals?"

"Aye, my lord. It's a special mix, designed to give the greatest pleasure to those who sing in their cages and those who tend them."

That was it. Ichigo was beyond done. "Can we just buy something and get the fuck out," he growled, stalking towards the door. "We're supposed to be on the clock here."

Rustling and whispers came from behind him. Ichigo glared at the closed door, mind churning. The cricket, kept prisoner in a cage to sing and then die. That was the name of this shop. The Silver Bell Cricket. For people kept as pets.

Run by a guy who seemed kind of okay, and his nice polite daughter. None of this was ever not going to be fucked up.

"We're done, my lord," Shin said, handing a brightly wrapped cloth package to Ichigo.

He took it gingerly, breath held. But there was nothing. Whatever they'd bought, it was safe.

"Let's go."

They left the shop and all stepped into shunpo together, following the route they'd thrashed out at four o'clock this morning with help of lots of tea. It took them south, back towards the house. Sou lead out, flaring his reiatsu slightly as he went. With luck, anyone watching would put it down to bad control. Anyone except Heishi, that was. He should be waiting for it.

Past the Pits lay a stretch of roofs. The same stretch where Ichigo had met up with the lieutenants and seated officers who'd joined him to rescue Renji. It was quiet. Too close to the 12th for any traffic that wasn't passing through at top speed. That was where they made the swap.

Sou's reiatsu flare was suddenly echoed by one up ahead. Heishi. As he ran, Ichigo slipped his haori off his shoulders.

They landed. Package, haori and Zangetsu went one way, a bundle of clothing came the other. And then Heishi, complete with orange wig, was gone, along with the others, heading back to the house where 'Shiba-taichō' would go straight into seclusion with his boyfriend to try out the new gear he'd bought.

In theory, Ichigo was free. Quickly, he stripped off his shihakushō and changed into the set of civilian clothes, a reassuring black with the Shiba mon on the sleeve and back. According to the papers that came with them, Ichigo was now Shin Jirō, servant to Shiba Ichigo, with personal permission to leave Seireitei on his master's business.

A hat to cover his distinctive hair and a scarf against the cold completed the outfit. Ichigo wrapped the Shiba tanto along with the Quincy cross in a spare set of gloves, tucked the small bundle inside his coat, then slipped quietly to the edge of the roof, and dropped down to ground level. A few steps took him onto the main thoroughfare and he began heading north in slow clumsy steps of shunpo.

Next stop, third north to see Ryūken and Uryū, and pass on the cross before someone noticed he had it. After that, so long as he was back to meet Urahara under the Sōkyoku Hill at dawn tomorrow, everything was good.


	15. New Shinigami Boogie

For some reason Ichigo's hair was playing loud music in Renji's ear. Renji flailed at it irritably and got a hissed, "Enough, Renji," for his troubles. Sleepily, he blinked awake, because what the hell? That hadn't been Ichigo's voice.

It hadn't been Ichigo's hair either. Some kind of fern was Renji's best guess as he swiped it away from his mouth. The noise had been coming from the phone that now flashed and jangled in Byakuya's hand, lighting his face up with a pale ghostly light.

Renji levered himself out of Byakuya's lap. He didn't even remember falling asleep, though he guessed he must have, to end up with his head there like that, and watched Byakuya poke and prod at the out of control gadget, lips getting thinner with every passing second. Finally the music stopped and the light went out, plunging them into a silent darkness that seemed absolute, even though Renji could hear traffic in the background.

"Ridiculous human technology," Byakuya muttered, just as the whole thing started up again. The phone jangled, lights began flashing and Byakuya started prodding.

Renji sat up on one hip to see what was happening. "I thought you knew how these things worked," he said, earning himself a huffy, "I do," from Byakuya, who was poking the buttons randomly as far as Renji could tell.

The bit that was flashing was a small screen at the top. Below it were a series of buttons stamped with kana, English letters and other arcane looking shapes. Presumably there had to be some trick to operating it, like those strange locks in Kurotsuchi's labs. How had those gone? Renji closed his eyes, remembering back to Ichigo hunching over the keypad, punching in numbers. There'd been two on the left, he was sure.

Leaning over, he pressed the top button on the left hand side followed by the bottom-most, just as Byakuya prodded the one with a green blob on it saying, "The humans I've observed simply press something and then speak into-"

The music suddenly stopped and the screen changed. Byakuya nodded to himself with an air of satisfaction and put the phone to his ear. "Moshi moshi?" he said.

A tiny tinny voice came from the other end, too quiet for Renji to hear. Byakuya of course had no such problem. "I see," he said, then a moment later, "Indeed."

Renji stopped even trying to listen in. If that was Arisawa then they'd be heading out soon, so he should get himself up and moving. He rolled onto his knees, and only just managed to bite back a grunt of pain. Crap, what the hell had he been doing to feel like this? His back and thighs hurt like hell, and for once it wasn't the skin. That just burned and itched, this was a deep muscle pain like he'd-

Like he and Byakuya had over indulged last night. Yeah, okay, maybe there was a good reason for his thighs to feel like bags of rocks. Still, talk about humiliating. One bit of nookie and he was reduced to this.

Giving it another go, Renji made it all the way to his feet this time and, for a moment just stood there, leaning against the tree, until his knees stopped wobbling. Byakuya cast him a worried glance, which Renji shrugged off and then wished he hadn't because, ow, even his shoulders were getting in on the act. Though it was nice to see Byakuya giving a damn, since the last thing Renji remembered was Byakuya calling him a cripple.

Not that he wasn't. It just stung hearing it since it was Byakuya's fault he'd ended up whipped in the first place.

No, that wasn't fair. The whipping he'd brought on himself by following Ichigo into the 12th to rescue the Quincy cousin. And that had to be a first. A shinigami rescuing a Quincy. Though from what Arisawa had said, the Quincy had started it by rescuing Isshin. And then supplying him with a gigai of some kind. How did that even work? Did Quincy know how to make that kind of stuff?

"Unless you propose to stand there all day, we should be leaving."

Byakuya's voice jerked Renji back into the here and now. He blinked at Byakuya, who was holding out the asauchi, which Renji hadn't even noticed was missing. He was also much more visible than he had been even a few minutes ago.

Renji frowned up at the lightening sky as he took the sword. "What time is it anyway?"

"Late. Almost seven."

Damn, he'd slept all night? Leaving Byakuya to keep guard over them alone.

Another wave of embarrassment swept through Renji and he ducked his head as he slid the asauchi through his obi. "Sorry," he said. "You should have woken me."

Byakuya turned away, heading towards the sound of traffic. "There would have been little point. In the dark and lacking the ability to sense reiatsu, any attacker would have been upon us before you noticed them."

Ouch. But again, it was accurate. With his reiryoku sealed the way it was, Renji was nothing but a drag on Byakuya's scarce resources, and Byakuya hadn't flinched at handing over everything Renji needed, from food to medical care to a chance to sleep and heal.

With a sigh, Renji trudged along behind Byakuya out to the road. Yet again he'd ended up owing his captain more than he could ever hope to repay. Some books just weren't meant to be balanced, he guessed.

"I believe the airport is that way," Byakuya said when they emerged from the trees, pointing down the road in the direction Renji distinctly remembered them coming _from_ yesterday.

"Actually," he said, "I think you'll find it's that way, 'cause that up there is the temple." It wasn't really visible. Not much more than a distant tree covered hillside, indistinguishable from all the other tree covered hillsides in the area. Byakuya looked unconvinced.

With a disgruntled humph, Renji glanced around for anything else that might help his case, but the road looked pretty much the same in both directions. Full of fast moving cars and lined with little box-like white houses with gardens and bits of rough ground between them. It looked wasteful to Renji's eyes, but what did he know. He'd given up trying to understand how humans lived years ago. Beyond that, he couldn't see anything useful.

Except for the map behind them. How had he managed to miss that? "Look," he said, nudging Byakuya's arm. They turned to study the map together. It seemed to be very large scale, only covering the immediate area, but it had three things on it that backed Renji up: the shrine where they'd spent the night, an arrow at the top of the map that said, amongst other things, 'to Taisan-ji', and another at the bottom that very clearly said 'Matsuyama airport'.

Renji could almost see Byakuya bristle at being proved wrong, but even he wasn't prideful enough to deny evidence that was right in front of his eyes. After a second he said, "Then we shall go in this direction," and turned the right way.

Renji slouched beside him as they wandered down the pavement. For a second, all seemed fine, until Renji realised they were right out in the open with nothing between them and something attacking from above. Nervously scanning the skies, he said, "I'm guessing the hollows have gone?" They certainly weren't hunting anymore. In fact he hadn't heard a one since he woke up.

"Not entirely," Byakuya replied as they crossed at a junction, nearly causing a car to crash as the driver tried to avoid something he couldn't see. "However most of them have done as we hoped and withdrawn to the mountains. With luck we will be gone before they realise we're no longer there."

That sounded good. Renji might be feeling better but he didn't fancy an all out fight before they caught the plane.

A little twist of excitement stirred in his gut. He'd never been on a plane that could still fly before, only crashed ones. "Hey, Byakuya," he said, running a couple of steps to catch up, ignoring the tightness in his skin at the stretch. "You ever flown before?"

Byakuya glanced towards him and slowed down just slightly. "In an aeroplane, you mean? No. Though I did once ride on an airship."

He looked so proud of the fact that Renji didn't have the heart to tell him he hadn't a clue what one of them was. Instead he asked, "Reckon it'll go fast?" He tried to imagine how the silver specks travelling through the sky translated into miles per second.

"Air ships could easily be outpaced by a shinigami in shunpo for short distances, however it took someone of seated officer rank to keep up with them for long. I have heard that aeroplanes are significantly faster."

Renji hoped so. The whole point of taking a plane to Karakura was that the hollows wouldn't be able to track them.

For a while they walked in silence. Renji amused himself deciphering signs and people watching. As the sun rose higher, the streets got busier. Buses joined the cars and kids with mothers in tow belted past on the sidewalk, their brightly coloured bags bouncing on their backs. Their yells of excitement were enough to bring a smile to Renji's face and he felt himself start to relax. Now they weren't being actively hunted, this was more like a holiday.

It was a pity Byakuya didn't seem to feel the same way. As the minutes past, he seemed to be getting tenser and tenser. Finally Renji asked, "Problem?"

Byakuya frowned. "There is something up ahead. I'm not sure precisely what, since it's hiding its reiatsu very efficiently, but it does appear to be strong."

"And it's between us and airport." Of course it was. Renji should have known it was going too well.

"As you say," Byakuya replied, just as the phone rang again.

This time Byakuya made no attempt to answer it. He simply grabbed Renji around the waist and stepped into shunpo. The world shifted, stopped, and shifted again. As his stomach lurched along with it, Renji clung to Byakuya's shihakushō, trying to keep his wits about him and thought how nice it would have been if Byakuya had bothered explaining this part of the plan beforehand. That second call must have been a signal of some kind.

"Hainawa!" Byakuya yelled suddenly and Renji caught a glimpse of bone white and trailing yellow bonds, before, "Byakurai!" the hollow exploded in a blast of lightning kidō and they were past it, the remains just dust in the air.

"Was that it?" Renji yelled, raising his voice to be heard over the whistle of the wind.

He felt rather than saw Byakuya shake his head. "More are rising. I fear several may have gone to ground rather than follow the others into the mountain."

Well, shit. That wasn't good.

Another touchdown and this time Renji heard the distinctive sound of a hunting hollow over the thunderous clatter of a train. Clinging tight to Byakuya's arm, he fished for his asauchi. Damn it, if they were after them, no way was he going down without a fight.

Before he could draw it, Byakuya spoke again. "Almost there. We will have to run the last few yards. Be ready, they're close behind!"

The world stopped. Renji's legs faltered, then held as he found himself being dragged across white-striped black tarmac towards a plane with J-A-L painted on the side. It was moving, Renji realised as Byakuya slipped in a single step of shunpo, bringing them close in to the massive machine. Another step and they were on the wing.

Byakuya wrapped his arm firmly around Renji's waist, hunching him over and urging him up the slippery metal surface. The wind whipped around them, threatening to take their feet at any second. Renji's heart thumped in his chest. He could hardly breathe from the noise and the smell and the sheer power he could feel resonating up through the metal. It shuddered beneath him. For a second Renji thought the plane was crashing, then he heard a bellow, louder even than the steadily rising scream of the engines and the howl of the wind. A hollow.

He glanced back to see it squatting on the end of the wing. Black and green scaled, its long multi-jointed fingers and toes clung to the metal like a tree frog to a leaf stem. Its mouth opened, and with no more warning than that, its tongue whipped out, lashing towards them. Byakuya turned to face it, loosening his grip on Renji as he stretched out a hand already charged with kidō.

Renji fumbled for the asauchi, wanting to be ready to slice off that whipping wiry tongue if it dared to come closer. But before he could draw the sword, the plane surged into the air. Renji yelped, stumbling, his feet losing traction at the sudden change in angle, and in that split second the wind caught him and he was gone. He fell, tumbling through the air, everything pulling and wrenching. Stitches tore and he cried out in frustration and pain. They'd been so close! Another second and they would have been clear! If only he wasn't so useless!

Smack! Something solid slammed him across the back, driving every scrap of air from his body. For a second Renji felt himself sliding and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he went this time, that really would be it. This second chance, whatever it was, would be lost. Somehow, despite not being able to breathe, he managed to turn and grab on as the wind tried to take him again. Fingers cramping, and belly sliding across metal, he raised his head just high enough to see that he was lying on the aircraft's tail.

Byakuya was still back on the wing. If he'd noticed Renji's fall, he wasn't showing any indication of it. All his attention was on the hollow. No, scratch that. Hollows, plural. As well as the froggy one that had been there before, there was another figure on the end of the wing. Renji couldn't see it clearly, and not just because the frog-hollow was in the way. This new one was small, almost human sized. And as hollows got smaller, they only ever got stronger.

If it wasn't one of those hollowfied shinigami, then Byakuya was facing an adjucha at least. Possibly even an arrancar.

"Fuck!" Renji screamed, the wind whipping the curse away even as he uttered it. "Byakuya!"

It was pointless. No way could Byakuya hear him. The aircraft was still climbing and the answer to how fast could they go was really fucking fast. If Byakuya fell now, he'd never catch up. The hollows would get him, or the rogue shinigami and no, just no. Fuck that, Renji was not gonna let that happen.

But if he was gonna stand a chance of rescuing Byakuya, he had to get inside the plane, and that wasn't going to be easy either.

All souls could pass through the solid materials of the living world, but it wasn't automatic. If it was, then Renji wouldn't be lying on this tail, he'd be floating in the air somewhere, really annoyed that he couldn't catch a lift to Karakura. To pass through things like walls and doors, and planes, took conscious effort. The trick of it was one of those things you learnt as a rookie that became second nature with a bit of practice, and Renji wasn't totally sure it was going to work in exactly the same way now he didn't have any reiryoku. But he had to try.

With as much speed as he dared, which wasn't much, Renji inched across the tail towards the body of the aircraft. It took longer that he might have liked, especially since he kept catching glances of Byakuya fighting over there on the wing, but he finally felt the wind drop and the chill metal of the plane pressed against his side.

This was it. Taking a deep breath, Renji closed his eyes, rolled sideways and let himself pass through the metal. For a brief second he was in total free-fall, and that feeling was enough to make him hit the floor. He landed with a thump and a sob of relief. All of him hurt, from his stubbed toes to the tips of his wind-burnt ears, his back and legs he wasn't even thinking about, but he couldn't rest yet. He crawled to his feet, using the wall to pull himself upright. And immediately banged his head on the ceiling.

Cursing, he ducked and looked around. He was in some kind of maintenance space. The walls were full of machines that wouldn't look out of place at the 12th, and the floor wasn't much more than mats over metal. The only flat wall had a small hatch in it and Renji guessed that was the way out into the plane proper.

This time, now he knew he could do it, passing through the metal was easier. And when he emerged the other side, it was to a short corridor blocked at the far end by half-length blue curtains. A door opened off one side and on the other lay a tiny alcove where a woman in a dark blue uniform was busy fiddling with trays of colourful bottles and boxes. Ignoring the woman, Renji flipped the curtains aside and kept going into the main part of the plane. This one might be in the air, not crashed, but he still recognised the layout. He needed to be further down if he was going to reach the wing.

Coming face to face with the sheer number of living people on the plane brought Renji up short. For a second, he hesitated, not sure if he dared just walk down the aisle in case someone saw him, then the aircraft gave a shudder and his attention snapped to the wing. Shit, he hadn't been thinking about the safety of the passengers when he'd decided to go help Byakuya, but now he realised how many there were and how lethal the situation could turn out, he had even less excuse not to hurry.

Shoving aside his worries, he dashed up the aisle until he reached the emergency exit over the wing. The seats beside it were both filled, by a young man busy throwing up in a bag and his girlfriend presumably, who was rubbing his back and looking a bit green herself. Without letting himself think about the how of it, Renji stepped through them out onto the wing, and nearly got blown away again almost immediately.

"Shit!" he yelled, clinging on to the side of the aircraft. And if one arm plunged back inside to wrap round a strut, well, he wasn't thinking about that either.

Byakuya had nailed himself to the wing with kidō, a damn good option in Renji's opinion. He'd do it himself if he could. At the sound of Renji's voice, he glanced back over his shoulder and the expression of utter relief that passed over his face was balm to Renji's soul. Byakuya had been worried about him.

"Get in here, you idiot!" Renji yelled, squinting to see anything past Byakuya in the howling wind. Somewhere down the end of the wing was at least one hollow. The small one, from what Renji could tell, though he couldn't see much more than a blur of orange and white.

Byakuya began creeping backwards, even as he periodically fired off bolts of kidō in the direction of the hollow. When he got close enough, Renji reached for him, caught him round the waist and dragged him hard up against his body. Only then did let himself hope that they might make it out of this in one piece.

"I've got an idea," Renji said, bending to yell straight into Byakuya's ear.

Byakuya frowned quizzically at him but nodded his willingness to listen.

"I'll be bait!" Renji yelled. "You go inside where it can't see you. Let it come for me, and at the last moment, you blast it off the wing!" Byakuya was already shaking his head. Renji grabbed his chin to stop him. "It'll work! Trust me! I killed that shinigami didn't I?"

An agonising second passed with no reaction, and then Byakuya nodded, wrapped Renji's arm around him tightly, and let go with both his hands to blast a double round of kidō up the wing. The whole aircraft juddered. Renji pulled a face. That wasn't good. Too much of that sort of the thing and they just might end up crashing. "No more," he yelled as Byakuya raised his hands again, "Inside! Now!"

Byakuya obeyed, rolling back beneath Renji's arm and disappearing inside the plane, leaving Renji alone to face whatever was out there.

Which was the precise moment, the plane entered a cloud. Freezing wet mist streamed past them, almost solid with the way it clung to Renji's clothes, visibility shrunk to almost nothing and sounds suddenly became muffled. Renji swallowed hard, blinking and reaching for his sword, since he didn't fancy being totally defenceless.

He never got a chance to draw it. The hollow came at him out of the mist, striking like a snake, almost too fast for him to see her. He got an impression of long orange hair whipping in the wind, a pretty girlish face, deformed by a mask that seemed to be holding her mouth open in a perpetual scream, and then she was gone, bouncing off the barrier that Byakuya had slammed up right in front of him.

Renji tumbled backwards, back inside the plane, feeling Byakuya catch him and lower him to the ground, arms tight around his chest. It hurt Renji's back like a mother-fucker, but right now, he didn't care. His stupid plan had worked. They'd done it! They'd finally lost the hunters and were on their way to Karakura Town!

* * *

"You've certainly made a mess of it, Renji-san," Arisawa said quietly, his movements painstaking as he peeled Renji's shitagi away from his damaged back.

Renji gripped the sides of the flimsy plastic basin rather than flinch like he wanted to and hung his head. It was that or look in the mirror that took up half the wall in front of him and he just couldn't face that again. That first glimpse had been enough. No matter what Byakuya said, Renji knew from ugly and he definitely qualified right now. There were corpses who looked less dead.

"Just do what ya can, doc," he said. "Keep me on my feet." So he could keeping pulling his weight. He refused to be more of a burden to Byakuya than he was already.

Arisawa tsked at him and Renji heard the tell-tale rattle of the spray. He braced himself just in time for the cold burn of whatever the stuff was that the doctor used to stick him back together. No gain without pain, they said. If that was true, Renji should be well ahead by now.

"No more fighting," Arisawa lectured as the spray moved lower, painting stripes across Renji's bare ass and thighs. "If you continue to reopen these wounds, there will come a time when they simply will not heal properly, and then where will you be, eh?"

Pretty much where he was now. Up shit creek with no hope of a paddle.

Damn it, and he'd been feeling really good about things right up to coming in here and seeing the mess in the mirror. Now…

Renji cursed silently. He'd never considered himself a vain man, primping and such he left to the likes of that asshole relative of Byakuya's. But Renji also loved having Byakuya's eyes on him, loved it when Byakuya sat mesmerised as Renji put on a show for him, and like this… Well, fuck, no one would want to watch Renji now, would they.

"Can you piss?" Arisawa said suddenly. He'd finished with the spray, Renji realised.

"Erm, I guess. Why?" Renji asked, snagging his hakama with his fingertips so he didn't have to bend, and easing them back up his legs. Doing them up was going to suck, and not just because of the skin. Since the adrenaline had worn off, his back had started aching.

"From what you told me, the tail plane hit you hard. There could be kidney damage." Arisawa's touch on his arm made Renji look up from his ties. The old man pointed at the toilet. "Take a piss now and tell me if there's any blood." He eased past Renji in the tiny space that was hardly big enough for Renji alone, to put his first aid kit on the side of the sink and begin repacking it.

Knowing better than to disobey a direct order from a doctor, Renji dropped trou and obeyed. Sure enough there was blood in his pee. A quietly muttered expletive earned him a disapproving glare and Arisawa rattled a pot of pills under his nose. "For you. Three times a day."

"Why?" Renji asked taking them and peering at the label. It was in English again. Didn't anyone write in Japanese any more?

"For any potential infections. I managed to get them prescribed for myself last night after the plane was delayed, but they should work for you just as well," Arisawa replied, zipping his pack up with a flourish. "Now I shall leave you before someone comes to find out what the old man is doing talking to himself in the bathroom."

Renji watched him go before beginning the slow, painful task of getting dressed again. After a couple of false starts, he gave up trying to untangle his shirts and stripped them both off, intending to put each back on separately, but as he shook the shitagi out, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

From this angle, if he kept his eyes below head height, he could almost con himself into thinking that there was nothing wrong, beyond the few bruises he'd picked up falling off the plane. The tattoos on his chest stood out as starkly against his skin as they always had, their black slashes emphasising his chest and abs and drawing the eye down towards his groin just the way they were designed to.

The ones on his arms were odd in places, and when he lifted his elbow to look more carefully, he could see several places where the ink was criss-crossed by paler lines. Not bad though. Nothing a touch up couldn't fix.

But what about his back?

By turning round completely and craning his head over his shoulder, Renji could just about see enough to know a quick touch-up job wasn't going to cut it on that damage. Most of the design was gone, and what ink was left was just random swirls, like someone had blotched his back with a writing brush. Across them, and standing out almost like the tattoos had before, were about a dozen wounds, none less than three inches long, some stuck together with bits of tape and others shiny with whatever stuff Arisawa had sprayed on him. And what wasn't like that, was covered in odd pinkish skin and dark bruises.

A quick bounce up on his toes showed Renji that his ass and thighs were worse. There were more splits for one thing, and even more scarring. Some of it so bad that it looked like someone had gouged channels into the muscle.

Well, fuck.

Heart leaden, Renji stopped straining to see and turned back around, bracing himself against the basin. Despite how much it hurt, he'd kind of hoped he'd been worrying over nothing. He hadn't. No way was that fixable, not without a miracle.

With nothing left to lose, he finally lifted his head and gazed straight into the mirror. A familiar boy with a shaved head, hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks stared back, and for the longest moment Renji couldn't move for memories. The sound of melting spring snows and the gushing flood of the river. Squelchy mud between his toes, the scent of unwashed bodies, piss and shit. Clinging together, seeking warmth from each others' naked skin as they all waited for the annual cut and dunk. The sharp smack of canes hitting bare legs and the squeals of the kids who'd been caught out of line. And then the grab and splash, pushed under, held down, scrubbed and shaved, emerging with stinging cuts and skin that felt scoured from the harsh soap.

All to get rid of lice, the camp attendants said, but looking back, Renji knew it was more than that.

See, it was hard to be an individual when everything that made you 'you' was stripped away, and the last thing the camps wanted was anyone even a little bit different. It made them too difficult to handle, too complicated, so anything that got in the way, either got cut off or hammered down. Long hair, non-uniform clothing, anyone who didn't quite fit, or wouldn't do as they were told. Kids who didn't conform, got beaten. Kids who did learn, got starved. And the ones who still wouldn't fall into line eventually disappeared.

After he jumped the wire, Renji made the decision to keep his hair long as a 'fuck you' to everything he'd managed to escape, and he'd never regretted it, not really. The brash colour of his hair and the impractical length of it was a statement of everything he'd achieved. He was his own man, as much as he could be, serving under Byakuya.

And now look at it.

Renji ran a shaking palm over the short strands. Shit, it wasn't even cut evenly. There were bald spots! And tufty bits that made him look like a demented squirrel. Byakuya would've made a better job with Sebonzakura.

He inclined his head, tugging at a long strand behind his ear and, as the angle of the light changed, caught sight of the scar across his eye. Renji's heart thumped, his fingers shooting straight to it, tracing the line of raised, slightly pinkish skin that ran from earlobe up to a shallow divot in the middle of his forehead, neatly bisecting the tattoo over his left eye.

A cut like that should have blinded him, yet his fingertips could find no scarring on the lid and the eye itself was perfect. Unohana-taichō must have healed that injury first. "Thank fuck," Renji whispered, peering closer just to check again.

As he leaned forward, the door behind him opened and in walked the young woman he'd seen helping out her puking boyfriend earlier. Renji yelped and snatched up his clothes, before remembering that she couldn't see him. Which didn't actually help when she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to reveal white panties with pink kittens on them.

"Sorry. Sorry, sorry," Renji muttered, closing his eyes as the panties went too, and plunged backwards through the mirror, his shirts clutched in one hand and hakama in the other

He emerged into another lavatory, the mirror image of the one he'd just left, and this time didn't waste any time before starting to get dressed. Even so, he still had his hakama round his knees when this door opened as well, and someone squeaked loudly, "Argh! My eyes!"

Renji glanced up from tying his kosode to see a kid with mousy brown hair dancing in the doorway. When he realised Renji was looking at him, he waved his hands frantically, "Dude! I am so sorry! The sign wasn't up or anything, and shit, I'll just leave you alone to do your thing whatever it is, and yeah. Just - just don't hit me, okay?"

And with that, he reversed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Renji blinked at it.

Well, crap. The kid could see him. Which wasn't good, because if Byakuya found out, he'd probably insist the kid got severed so he wasn't a danger to others. The law was the still the law, and Renji wasn't stupid enough to think Arisawa's free pass had been given for any other reason than that Byakuya needed him. That kid didn't look like he'd be much use to anyone. Let alone an ex-Gotei captain on the run.

And it was all Renji's fault. Double crap.

He had to fix this. Make sure the kid kept his mouth shut. Somehow.

Concocting a half-assed plan in his head, Renji finished up as fast as he could, and poked his head out the door. The kid was standing opposite, his hands clasped in front of him like he really needed a piss but had just enough manners not to grab it and hang on. He also had his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the wall. Perfect.

A quick check in the both directions told Renji the coast was clear, so he dodged out, grabbed the kid by the front of the shirt and dragged him back into the bathroom, this time locking the door behind him. Before the kid had the presence of mind to start yelling, Renji had him pinned to the wall and a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

Terrified brown eyes stared up at Renji like Renji's face was the last thing the kid was going to see before he died. Which was exactly the effect Renji had been going for, so that worked out.

Now to up the ante.

Renji leaned down so his mouth was level with the kid's ear and growled in his best 'I'm gonna fuck you up' voice, "Do y'know what death looks like?"

The head under Renji's hand shook.

"Me."

The shake became a jerk, accompanied by a high-pitched whining sound.

"Guess I should be saying thank you," Renji said, pulling back just far enough to meet the kid's eyes. "'Cause if you hadn't'a spoke to me, I wouldn't'a been able to do this," he finished, and slammed his hand through the kid's chest into the wall. The kid went rigid and, as the distinctive smell of piss filled the room, Renji smirked and walked through kid and wall both, straight out of the bathroom.

Once he was the other side, Renji headed directly for the front of the plane and the exit closest to Arisawa's seat. If there were people on this flight who might be able to see them, he needed to make sure he stayed where he couldn't be seen. When he got there, he found Byakuya exactly where he'd left him, dozing against the wall. He disturbed as Renji lowered down next to him, lifting his head and blinking a bit stupidly. "Renji?" he said, "You took a long time. Is everything all right?"

"I'll live," Renji said, trying to get comfortable on one hip. But somehow, knowing how bad the damage was on his ass made it more uncomfortable to sit on.

After a moment of Renji shifting around, Byakuya huffed and said, "Lie down, do," and patted his leg in invitation.

Not one to argue when he was getting what he wanted anyway, Renji did as he was told. Within moments, he was drowsing himself, though the images in his mind kept him from truly restful sleep.

* * *

"Finally," Byakuya muttered, as Arisawa dragged a suitcase that looked identical to most of the others, off the moving platform. "Perhaps now we can leave. This would not be a good place to have to fight."

"You think they tracked us?" Renji asked, shifting his weight against the pillar they'd 'hidden' behind, as far as you could hide in a place with no real corners and too many people.

Byakuya's eyelids fluttered closed and he shuddered delicately like a wet cat. "Not that I can sense, but still I feel eyes on us."

Yeah, well, there was a good explanation for that, 'cause the kid Renji had left pissing himself in the bathroom was standing no more than twenty feet away, waiting for his luggage too.

Renji glanced over at him, at pale face and hands twisted into a knot of fingers in front of his damp trousers. Every couple of seconds he'd almost look in Renji's direction before stopping himself just in time. Scared, but doing as he'd been told, which was good enough for Renji. He'd learnt his lesson, and it might just save his life if he ever ran into another shinigami.

Arisawa pottered towards them, towing his suitcase behind him. As he passed by, Renji and Byakuya fell into step behind, following him out through glass doors, past stairs that moved by themselves and across a wide white-tiled corridor. Two more sets of glass doors and they were finally outside. Byakuya's gaze immediately rose to the sky and Renji's did the same, scanning the clear skies for any sign of hollows. They were gratifying empty.

"Looks like you were worrying over nothing, taichō," Renji said, inhaling deeply. They were still close to the sea. He could smell the fishy scent of it just below the pungent stink of car exhaust that all human cities seemed to have these days.

"Perhaps," Byakuya replied, glancing back at the building, his brows drawing down. "Still I will be glad to out of the public eye."

Arisawa immediately started muttering to himself, though more than loud enough for Renji and Byakuya to hear, "I shall take a taxi." Then more quietly and definitely to himself as he patted at his jacket pocket, "There's enough cash, I think."

Continuing to mumble under his breath, Arisawa picked his way along the sidewalk, past a long line of people waiting for buses, and up to a sign that read, 'Taxi'. Several cars were parked up next to it, their doors open and engines running. Arisawa went alongside them, ducking his head and peering in, sometimes exchanging a couple of words with the driver.

"Akiruno?" he'd call, but Renji guessed whatever they were saying back wasn't right because he didn't stop.

One driver in a very smart uniform and white gloves got out and came round with some kind of gadget in his hand. "Where to, ojii-san?" he asked.

"Karakura town. Next to Naruki-city," Arisawa replied, peering at the gadget and then poking at the screen.

The driver shook his head. "That's a long way out. You sure you wouldn't be better off taking the train? The station's just down there." He pointed towards a set of doors with steady stream of people passing through them, including the kid from the bathroom. That wouldn't be good.

"If a hollow should find us-" Byakuya began, but Arisawa was already telling the driver, "That won't be possible, thank you. I'll just keep asking."

As he finished speaking, a white car with a blue stripe down the side and a yellow blob on the roof pulled up at the back of the rank. The driver they were speaking to glanced up and, when he saw it, his weathered face split into a grin. "Try Zommari," he said. "He comes from out that way. Perhaps he'll appreciate a trip home." And with that he turned his attention to the couple of frozen looking westerners who'd just wandered out of the airport building behind them.

Arisawa headed straight for the newcomer, who unfolded out of his car as Arisawa arrived. Unfolded being the operative term, because damn was that guy tall. He had several inches on Renji, and with skin much darker than Yoruichi's and a cap of cropped blond hair, even in the same smart uniform and gloves as the other drivers, he cut an arresting figure. When he saw him, Arisawa hesitated for a moment before saying, "Akiruno?"

The driver, Zommari, smiled, showing off uneven teeth. His accent when he spoke was drawling, "Sure grandpa, but it'll cost you a bit. Wouldn't you be better off-"

"Taking the train? Possibly," Arisawa said with a sigh, "but it isn't convenient today, so a taxi it is. I need to go to Karakura Town. Is that okay?"

Zommari shrugged and came round the car to undo the trunk. There were two stickers stuck on it, Renji noticed. One was the Japanese flag. The other had a dark blue background with white multi-pointed stars and a white and red cross at one corner. "It's your money, ojii-san."

"Indeed it is," Arisawa said, towing his luggage over. "Also I prefer to travel in the front seat."

"Yeah, it'd be kind of a squeeze with all three of you in the back," Zommari said, flashing a grin at Renji and Byakuya as he tossed the suitcase easily into the car. "Nice pig-sticker. That some kind of re-enactment thing?"

Renji's heart leapt into his mouth. The driver could see them. How?

Arisawa had stopped moving too, his gaze flicking between Zommari and… shit. Byakuya. Who'd frozen and was staring at Zommari like he was the biggest threat since Ichimaru.

"Taichō?" Renji murmured, because Renji was the one with the asauchi and if Byakuya was suddenly going to grab it and kill this guy, Renji wanted a heads-up.

Zommari seemed to sense the change of atmosphere. His shoulders dropped and he bowed his head. "I said something wrong again, didn't I. I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, sir."

Byakuya stirred, as though pulling himself out of a stupor. "There's no need to apologise. The sword is simply… not customarily a talking point."

"Ah. Some kind of religious thing. Gotcha," Zommari said, standing back up with a broad grin on his face, all traces of his chagrin gone. He slammed the trunk closed and shot round to open the passenger door for Arisawa before leaping back in the driving seat. A second later, the back door beside Renji flew open with a mechanical clunk and Zommari called out, "Let's go!"

They weren't even past the first junction before Renji gave up trying to sit on the seat properly and collapsed sideways on Byakuya's lap, curling his legs as best he could on the narrow seat. Between Zommari's stop-go driving style and the stupid way cars swayed around, his back felt like shit. Though that might have had something to do with the plane hitting him earlier.

Had that really only been a couple of hours ago? It felt like a lifetime. And what were they going to do about Arisawa. Renji hadn't missed the way the old man had checked for his wallet. And all the drivers had said this trip was going to cost a packet. Add in the medical supplies and the plane trip, and they really owed this guy. How the hell were they ever going to pay him back?

Though not killing him was a good start. Which reminded him…

"Hey," Renji said, poking Byakuya in the leg.

Byakuya lifted his head from the window and blinked down at him. He looked exhausted again. That fight on the plane wing must have used up a lot of reiatsu.

"Why didn't you kill Zommari?" Renji asked quietly.

"The driver?" Byakuya said, his eyes flicking briefly to back of the man's head.

"Yeah." Renji propped himself on his elbow, still keeping a firm grip on Byakuya's hakama in case of inclement corners. In the front, Zommari was chatting happily to Arisawa about something called baseball, so there was no chance of them being overheard.

"It seemed expedient to leave him alive."

Oh, right. "Because he's driving us to Karakura." Presumably Byakuya would do the deed at the other end. Good to know.

"As you say," Byakuya replied. He yawned, rubbing his face with one hand as though trying to wake up. The other had a good hold of Renji's kosode collar, which proved useful when Zommari swerved out into traffic.

Once that bit of excitement was over, Renji settled back down, still chewing over the problem of Zommari and the kid in the bathroom. That was two humans they'd come across already who could see them. Three, if you counted Arisawa. And there'd been that little girl Ichigo found at the train crash and the paramedic who'd treated her. That was a lot of people with enough spiritual power to see shinigami. Had there been more?

"Hey," he said, poking Byakuya in the leg again. "You come across a lot of people who could see you since coming over?"

"For the most part I tried to avoid contact with humans, but there were a few."

Call that half a dozen, knowing Byakuya. "Did you kill 'em?"

Byakuya pressed his fingers to his forehead. Not a good sign. "The term is severed, and yes, I did."

"You gonna keep doing it when we get where we going? 'Cause I can't help feeling if a load of people start dropping dead all in the same area, someone's gonna notice, and that might not be the sort of attention we want."

A deep, slightly shaky breath and briefly screwed shut eyes met that suggestion. "Renji, I cannot simply not do it. That law exists for a very good reason. Such people attract hollows to the world of the living."

Did they though? The likes of Ichigo, for sure. He'd been a beacon he'd had so much power. But thinking back, the little girl Ichigo had found at the train crash had had hardly any at all. She'd not tripped Renji's radar until he'd realised she was alive. Having said that, Renji was no sensor, so maybe he was missing something.

"How much reiryoku has he got?" Renji asked, jerking his head in Zommari's direction.

Byakuya's eyes took on a far away look, then he frowned. "Very little. But if he can see us, it's enough to make him dangerous."

Renji still wasn't buying it. "If he was, wouldn't he be dead by now?"

That won him an annoyed huff and a, "Renji, is there a point to this or are you just making noise for the sake of it."

Wow, Byakuya must be feeling bad. It'd been years since he'd used that line. But Renji wasn't a kid to be shut down so easily any longer. He was onto something here, he was sure of it.

"I was just thinking that there might be more to it, is all. You said the place was crawling with hollows when you first arrived, so how come they didn't eat Arisawa if his reiryoku was enough to attract them?"

Byakuya's frown deepened and Renji ploughed on. "Plus, he can't see them. And okay, that doesn't mean much but it shows how weak a human's power can be and them still be able to see us."

"Arisawa was not the only one in the city-" Byakuya began.

"Yeah, you said, you killed 'em," Renji put in over the top of him.

Byakuya shook his head. "No, there were others, many others that I had no contact with. I used their presences to mask my own when I needed to use kidō."

"And the hollows hadn't eaten them during all that time you were in hiding?" Renji asked, coming up on his elbow again.

"They showed no interest at all." For a guy who didn't do expressions, Byakuya was doing a good line in worried. "Renji, I don't understand. How could that be? Why would that law exist if not to protect the greater human population from this dangerous minority?"

Renji had an idea but before he could say anything, Arisawa said quietly from the front, "Exterminating local populations who might harbour escapees is not unheard of."

It was testament to Byakuya's state of mind that he didn't even comment about Arisawa having listened in. Instead he said simply, "That seems unlikely, given that so few shinigami flee to the living world."

Renji knew the answer to that one. He'd heard it talked about often enough. "Yeah, because surviving here for any length of time is impossible, and anyone who can see you well enough to help's just gonna attract the wrong sort of attention. Everyone in the Gotei knows that." Damn, it was such a clever tactic. Renji would've been impressed if he didn't feel sick. "So it's not a law to protect humans at all, it's misinformation to keep disgruntled shinigami trapped in Soul Society."

"And if any shinigami do come, it makes them less likely to approach humans for help even if they need it," Arisawa said. "Isshin often worried his presence would draw others to Karakura, and get mine and Sōken's families killed. His advice was never to acknowledge any other shinigami we might see."

"You upped and talked to me straight off," Renji pointed out.

Arisawa met his eyes in the mirror. "You were injured, and I promised myself a long time ago that I would never allow my cowardice to stop me helping someone in need ever again."

Silence fell over the little group as that sank in. Renji glanced up at Byakuya who was staring blindly out of the window. Outside, the narrow packed road had become a wide busy highway and the buildings now sprawled lower and had more space between them.

He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. It didn't work. There wasn't enough space to stretch his legs. Finally in desperation, he slid his knees to the floor and leaned the top half of his body on the seat. It'd meant travelling backwards but he didn't care right now.

"Are you alright?" Byakuya asked. Apparently all Renji's wriggling around had dragged him back from his contemplation of the world outside.

Renji huffed. What a wimp not being able to sit on his own ass. "Stupid car's too small," he complained, trying to find somewhere to stick his feet which didn't involve getting them trapped under a seat.

"Oh, I hear ya, mate," Zommari chirped up from the front. "I swear everything in this country's built for people two foot high. No offence," he added, nodding at Arisawa. "I swear, if I didn't love my wife so much, I'd go home tomorrow."

"Australia?" Arisawa asked. There was a mechanical clunk from his side of the car and suddenly his seat moved forward a couple of inches. Renji stretched his feet out with a relieved groan.

"How could you tell?" Zommari said with a grin. "It's the accent, right? Dead giveaway." The smile became a laugh as the car swerved across two lanes. "Yeah, my dad moved there from Brazil years ago, found himself an Aussie girl and never looked back." They started chatting again, this time about Zommari's native country. Renji zoned out when the conversation moved on to 'soap operas', whatever the hell they were.

He was just pondering the technicalities of trying to sleep in this position when Byakuya's hand came down and grasped his. Renji looked up at him. His expression was pensive and he seemed to be staring at their joined hands.

Renji gave Byakuya's a squeeze. "Deep thoughts?" he asked, more to take his mind off his discomfort than any real need to know. Whatever was bothering Byakuya, he'd share it eventually, and no amount of prodding from Renji would speed up the process.

"Hm," Byakuya hummed in reply, turning distant eyes to gaze out of the window again.

"'Cause it occurred to me that if we're gonna be staying here a while, we might be better off taking a page out of Isshin's book. You know, making friends with the locals. Maybe go a bit native?"

Byakuya flinched slightly at the mention of Isshin's name but he replied with a tired, "Perhaps."

"So does that mean you've decided not to kill 'em?" His feet were cramping again. Renji slithered back up onto the seat and lay down using Byakuya's thigh as a pillow.

Rather than answer, Byakuya smoothed a palm over Renji's cheek. "If you're that uncomfortable, I can put you to sleep for the rest of the trip."

Damn that was tempting. No way was he going to be able to get comfortable otherwise. "Just tell me you won't kill Zommari when we arrive."

The palm slid round to Renji's forehead. "I'm not going to be killing anyone, Renji, I promise. Now sleep."

That was all the assurance Renji needed.

Though, weirdly, as the kidō seeped into his mind, Renji heard Zommari ask, "So if you guys are shinigami, which one of you's got the notebook?"

* * *

He woke to car doors slamming. Byakuya was already gone so Renji clambered clumsily out of the vehicle, relieved to find himself more stiff than sore. The upside of that sleeping kidō was all your muscles ended up relaxed whether you wanted them to or not. The downside was the sleep hangover that always left him groggy for a few minutes after he woke up.

They were parked on a narrow stretch of tarmac outside a two storey building that looked to be built of white metal. The plants and clothing hanging from windows and balconies suggested it was residential. And it wasn't the only one. Houses crowded all around the small space, more like the huts of Rukongai than the open spaces of Seireitei that Renji was used to. Normally in the living world, his patrols took him higher, above the roofs, and at that level nothing felt claustrophobic. This was even more cramped than the industrial type places Byakuya had hidden them in.

The smell of herbal smoke preceded Zommari round the corner of the white building. "Your pal's gone off to have a look around," he said, waving the hand holding the cigarette in the general direction of a narrow gap between two houses. "And Arisawa-sensei's popped indoors to sort something out. Said he'll be back in a bit." He took a deep drag of the cigarette and let the smoke curl from nose as he looked around, nodding appreciatively. "Nice little place, but man, doesn't matter how long I'm here, I can't get used to the way people all live on top of each other. Back home, everyone's got a yard, you know. Plenty of space to spread out." Turning his attention back to Renji, he fixed him with a curious look, "What's it like in dead bloke country?"

Renji, still feeling a bit run over and not really awake yet, blinked at him, taking a moment to figure out what he meant before saying, "I guess it depends where you're from? Some of it's pretty nice." So long as you didn't scratch the surface. "Some's not so great." Like any district past fifty. Or even the lower ones if you were too weak to stand up for yourself.

"Bit like this place then," Zommari said with a nod like Renji had just confirmed something for him.

Renji looked around at concrete and metal and tarmac. At wires stretching between buildings and the little old lady dressed in a pink bobble hat and plaid coat pushing a shopping trolley full of brightly wrapped things up the road. "Not so much."

"Really?" Zommari said looking surprised, then he laughed, "Nah, not the geography mate. I meant like the system." When Renji didn't answer, he added, "You know, the haves and have nots. The rich getting richer? Stealing the poor man's dollar?"

Since Renji's experience of the living world was limited to missions, he had to take Zommari's word for how things worked here, but he knew Rukongai and Seireitei. And he knew how nobility treated gaki. "In that case, yeah, it sounds just the same."

"See, told ya." Zommari shook his head and took another puff on his cigarette. "You'd think we could make a go of it after we died. Ah well, guess I'll just have to stick it to the man when I get there. Vive la révolution, and all that."

Renji's brain was starting to wake up, and that helped. He smirked at Zommari, saying, "Revolution, eh? You sound just like a friend of mine. Tell you what, when you get to Soul Society, try asking for Shiba Ichigo-"

"And why would he want to do that?" Byakuya asked touching down beside them.

Zommari yelped and dropped his cigarette. While he was scrabbling around on the ground for it, Renji changed the subject, "Any sign of the hunters?" he asked Byakuya.

A frown passed briefly over Byakuya's face and he scanned the surrounding buildings warily. "Not as yet. So with luck we have finally lost them."

"That's good." And would have been better if Byakuya hadn't still looked so paranoid. "Maybe now you can get some sleep."

"Perhaps," Byakuya replied, and then turned to Zommari. "Thank you for waiting," he said with a small dip of the chin, surprising the shit out of Renji, who'd still kind of half expected Byakuya to run Zommari through. "I have a proposition I would like you to consider."

Zommari's gaze flicked nervously from Byakuya to Renji and back again. "Look," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "I'm not prejudiced or anything, but I don't do guys."

Byakuya hesitated for only a second before replying, "A lack I feel sure you will correct in the future, however that was never the intent behind my proposal." He paused, seeming to search for his next words. When he found them, he said, "Zommari-san, since you are able to see both myself and Renji, I would like you to remain in contact with us. Perhaps in a social context?"

As overtures of friendship went, it was as clumsy as hell, and typically Byakuya. Renji's heart melted a little. Zommari just looked confused.

When the lack of an answer began to get awkward, Renji jumped in. "He means have a drink or something," he said, though that'd be difficult if no one but Zommari could see them.

Zommari's face crumpled with relief. "Right, so nothing with swords or sex then."

The old lady with the pink bobble hat and shopping trolley, who'd stopped to rest just at the bottom of the narrow roadway, made a horrified sound. Zommari stared at her in a brief moment of panic, then dipped his head at her politely, which just made her look more scandalised before she hurried off.

As she went, shooting disapproving looks back over her shoulder, Zommari sighed, "Damn, she's got her knickers in a twist about something." He glanced at Renji and Byakuya with a lopsided smirk. "Reckon it was you two or me she was gunning for?"

Byakuya got in before Renji could. "Since she undoubtedly couldn't see us, I would assume it was you."

Zommari stared at him for a second before launching his cigarette furiously into the road and swearing loudly, "Shit! I've been stood here all this time talking to my fucking self! I'll be lucky if no one's called the cops." Still cursing, he dragged a light brown wallet out of his uniform pocket and flipped it open. Inside was a stack of printed cards. He slid one out and handed it to Byakuya. "Here. You want to get in touch, call me, okay? Maybe we can find somewhere people won't think I'm nuts."

The wallet disappeared back in his pocket and keys came out. "Now, I'm bailing before trouble arrives." He looked around nervously. "It's been a blast meeting you all. Tell Arisawa-san I said to stay safe, okay? See ya!" And with that, he leapt back in his car, revved the engine and shot off down the road.

Byakuya stared after him in silence, turning the card between his fingers. Then he asked almost plaintively, "Do you really think we need to make connections with these people?"

Renji shrugged one shoulder. "We're gonna be stuck here a long time, taichō. I don't think we've got a lot of choice."

At the sound of the title, Byakuya bristled. "I am not your captain any longer, Renji. Please try to remember that." He stalked away towards the building. "Now come. If we're to make nice with these humans, we should start with the good doctor."

Arisawa lived in number 206. The door was ajar when Renji and Byakuya arrived on the walkway outside. Renji tapped on it and pushed it open further. "Hello?" he called, ducking his head to avoid clocking himself on the top of the door frame.

Arisawa appeared from round a wall further into the apartment. Looking nervous, he bobbed a slight bow and said, "Please, come in."

"Thanks. Sorry to be a nuisance," Renji replied for both of them. Going in first to check the lay of the land, he slipped off his sandals by the step and, leaving them next to Arisawa's, padded down a narrow bit of corridor and into a tiny kitchen.

"The shower and bathroom," Arisawa said, pointing to two doors that led off the impossibly small space. "The toilet is behind you, by the front door."

Renji turned to look and his sword almost put a hole through the wall. "Shit, sorry," he said, turning further, this time clonking it against the kitchen cabinets.

"Give it here, Renji, before you demolish the place," Byakuya said, holding out his hand.

Going by the tightness of his lips, this wasn't up for discussion, but as Renji pulled the asauchi from his obi, he found himself very reluctant to hand it over. "I'll hold it," he said, adjusting his grip so he clutched it by the sheath against his chest. It felt awkward, but it kept the end under control.

Byakuya's eyes met his for a moment, and held. Renji's heart did a double thump. Even if Byakuya wasn't his captain any longer, Renji was still Byakuya's sworn vassal. And trying something like this in the past, would have got him in serious trouble. Still, this was _his_ sword. It might not be Zabimaru yet, but it might be, some day, and no matter the cost, Renji couldn't bring himself to give it up.

Much to Renji's surprise, instead of pushing the point, Byakuya dipped his chin and said, "As you will, then."

For a moment Renji felt a real sense of triumph at winning what seemed like a huge concession, until he remembered Byakuya's words from the night before. Yeah, that'd be it. He was probably only going along with it because, without the sword, Renji would be completely useless.

Turning back to Arisawa, who was now looking really nervous, Renji smiled a bit wanly and said, "Sorry about that. I guess I'm used to having more space."

And he wasn't kidding. Even when they got past the poky bit at the front, there wasn't much more room. The main living space, that apparently doubled as a bedroom, was four mats, tops, the size of the anteroom in the captain's quarters. In fact, you probably could have fit the whole apartment into Byakuya's old bedroom with room to spare.

About the only saving grace of the whole set-up was the light. Half of the far wall was taken up with a full height window and, combined with the room's pale cream walls and tatami floors, it gave an illusion of space that the room shouldn't have had.

Security wise, the vast expanse of clear glass made Renji feel like a sitting duck.

"Welcome to my home," Arisawa said, bowing again. He seemed even more nervous than before. Maybe he was wondering how the hell the three of them were going to live in such a small space. Renji definitely was.

This was Kuchiki Byakuya, for goodness sake. So, he might have been eating shrine offerings and sleeping on bare concrete for the past month, but that was exceptional circumstances. He was used to better. He expected better.

Renji swung round to maybe suggest they try and find a hotel, or something, and saw Byakuya's face. He was staring at a tall tansu made of dark wood tucked away inside a storage cupboard behind them. It was a butsudan, an altar. Currently its ornate doors were tightly closed, but to one side of them stood three photographs.

The largest, with an ornate gilt frame, was of a woman with short salt and pepper hair and sad eyes. Arisawa's wife maybe? To the right of it stood another showing an old man with wild grey hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a bushy moustache. He didn't look much like Arisawa, so Renji guessed a brother-in-law rather than a brother.

But Byakuya, treading swiftly over to the cupboard, ignored those pictures, and went for a smaller one, further back.

Arisawa was beside him in an instant. "My apologies. I should have said something before now, but what with everything else that was going on, there never seemed to be a good time- "

"This is his wife?" Byakuya interrupted, pointing at the picture, and in that instant Renji knew who it was.

Sure enough, when he went and peered over Byakuya's shoulder, Renji found himself looking at a photo of Ichigo's mom, the same one he'd seen blown up to poster-sized on the wall of the Kurosaki's living room. And tucked in the corner of the same frame was a family snapshot.

Looking at the sand dunes behind them, it had probably been taken at a beach, and it must have been some time ago because Ichigo was only a little kid, peeking round his mom's flowered skirt and grinning at the photographer as his mom smiled down at him encouragingly. The girls, both dangling in their dad's arms, weren't much more than babies, though Karin already had a good scowl going on. Isshin, dressed in a eye-searing printed shirt, beamed out of the picture, as proud as any dad ever. As a family, they sure didn't look like dangerous war criminals and traitors.

"That's Kurosaki Masaki," Arisawa was saying, touching his finger to the main picture. "She was the first, several years ago now. A robbery gone wrong, so they said. But the others, Isshin and the children," he slid his fingertip across the colourful image, "that was only a few months ago."

"Yes. I am aware," Byakuya said.

Arisawa jerked, eyes widening. "You- " he began and then stopped, ducking his head. "Shinigami. Of course. I should have realised you people would have some way of knowing these things." As he continued, his words sounded more and more like an old man's ramble. "I was worrying for nothing. But it's hard to forget such a tragedy. And so sudden. Those poor children to die in a fire, though it was the fumes that took them, thank the gods."

Renji waited for Byakuya to say something like, 'No actually it was me who killed them and Renji here who set the fire,' or maybe, 'by the way, Isshin's back in Soul Society, locked up in jail', but he didn't. Instead he stood motionless, his face blank and eyes riveted to the photograph.

Memories, Renji supposed, and suddenly feeling like an intruder on a very personal grief, he eased away and turned his attention to the rest of the room.

It still wasn't very impressive, unless you liked books. Then you'd probably love it. They were everywhere. Two glass-fronted bookcases, full to bursting with the sort of serious looking tomes that filled Byakuya's library, took up the right hand wall, while the left had a wide shelving unit crammed with paperbacks. The only flat surface that didn't contain books was a small stand cater-corner to the door which held a small television.

Since he had nothing else to do, Renji read his way slowly down the spines of the bookshelf closest to him. They were medical texts going by the titles, not something which grabbed Renji's interest, though he kept going in the hopes of finding something different.

Once he ran out bookcase, he side-stepped a small kotatsu draped in a vibrant blue, green and red patchwork quilt, and peered out of the window. It slid back like a door and there was a small balcony outside, but the view was nothing special.

It looked out onto a small garden and then the front doors of another housing block next door. Beyond that were another few blocks and then trees stretching for some distance up a sharp incline, another road snaking its way through them on up the hill. The sky, clear and a cold blue-white, was still miraculously clear of hollows.

Having exhausted the possibilities of the view, Renji moved on to the rest of the shelves. Disappointingly, most of the colourful paperbacks were medical journals, and the only books that weren't, turned out to be photograph albums. Not exactly the novels he'd been hoping to find, but he guessed they'd beat staring at the wall.

Renji reached out for one, before stopping and glancing around guiltily. Would Arisawa mind if he looked?

The old man had vanished, into the kitchen going by the quiet clatter of crockery coming from that direction. Hopefully that meant hot tea in the not too distant future. And Byakuya was still stood, silently contemplating the photograph of Isshin and his family.

Feeling a little bit sneaky, Renji pulled one of the albums from the shelf at random and began to flick through it.

It contained picture after picture of Arisawa with a woman Renji quickly recognised as his wife. It started with them as young people, Arisawa's full head of thick black hair made him look very different, and then showed them both with a small boy, and a little girl, and so on. Family photos, in other words.

He tried a second book, and the very first picture pulled him up short. It was a black and white of Arisawa and another man, the guy from the picture on the altar with the glasses, sticky-up hair and a moustache, though looking much younger in this photograph. Both men were dressed in western style suits, and they were standing proudly in front of a tall modern looking building with a large white sign that read, 'Karakura General Hospital'.

"That was taken the day the hospital opened," Arisawa said suddenly, right behind Renji, who jumped and damn nearly dropped the album in surprise. "The pictures on the next page are all of Sōken's family as well."

He put the tea down on the kotatsu before leaning over, flipping the page and pointing at the second picture on the right. It was of a man with white hair and steel-rimmed glasses standing with his arm around a pretty dark-haired woman, though neither of them looked really happy about it. He was wearing some kind of crazy black haori and a hat as flat as the tea tray with a green tassel hanging off it. She was very very pregnant. Like, she was going to pop any moment, pregnant.

"Ryūken and his wife, Katagiri, at Ryūken's doctoral graduation." Arisawa smiled sadly, his eyes older and more distant than Renji remembered from before. "John's Hopkins in America. Sōken would have been proud to see him do so well."

He cleared his throat and indicated the picture below. "And that's little Uryū, Ryūken's son."

The kid was horribly familiar, though the last time Renji had seen him, he hadn't had as much meat on his bones. As he'd suspected when Arisawa first mentioned Ryūken's name, this was definitely Ichigo's Quincy family. But why were the pictures still in albums and not over on the butsudan with the Kurosaki family and Sōken? Did Arisawa not know they were dead?

Before he could say anything, Byakuya spoke up from the other side of the room. "Ishida Ryūken and his son are both in Soul Society." Which was accurate, yes, but not exactly subtle.

The old man staggered a little, putting his hand out. Renji caught him and helped him to sit down on the single zabuton next to the kotatsu. Byakuya was there instantly as well, reaching for the tea pot and pouring a thin stream of sharp smelling green tea into one of the three white and orange porcelain cups.

"The car, the river," Arisawa was muttering. "I wondered, but I still hoped. It's never final until they find a body, is it. Oh, those poor boys. Those poor poor boys."

Renji shot a worried glance at Byakuya as the muttering continued. The doctor was obviously a very old man and he'd had a rough few days. The last thing he needed to be told was that his best friend's son and grandson had been kidnapped and tortured by shinigami. But Byakuya's face was impassive, and he didn't even meet Renji's eye before he pushed the cup towards Arisawa and said, "They might dead, but they're perfectly fine. They're being well looked after. Kurosaki Ichigo is with them."

"And Isshin?" Arisawa asked, blinking confusedly up at Byakuya. "Is Isshin there too?"

Byakuya's gaze dropped for a brief second before he reached out and wrapped long pale fingers around the old man's thin wrist. Papery skin wrinkled under his careful grip. "Not exactly, but I promise you, ojii-san, with Ichigo looking after them, they couldn't possibly be in safer hands."


	16. Black Cat Jam

A gust of wind caught him as he touched down on the ridge, temporarily turning the world white. Ichigo blinked the snow out of his eyes, tugged his hat down further and pulled the scarf up over his nose and mouth. Just how much snow fell in this district, anyway? Last time he was here, there'd only been a dusting and that was only a couple of weeks ago. Okay, maybe more like a month, since it'd been a standard patrol, but still, it had to be about a foot deep by now. Worse in the dips and ditches. If he couldn't shunpo, he'd be totally stuck.

And Ryūken and Uryū were living up here? In this? Ichigo was never complaining about cold feet again.

Another mile into the teeth of the blast brought him to a rock formation that looked like a oni. There, he paused and waited, taking the time to cast around with his reiatsu for any sign of trackers. Just because he'd trapped the 2nd's spy-cat in a box, didn't mean they didn't have others and he was sure he'd sensed someone on his tail after he left Seireitei.

He waited, hunched under the lee of the rock, for a count of five hundred, his gloved hands tucked under his arms to keep them warm as he sent out tendrils of reiatsu in random directions. Nothing. If there had been anyone, he'd lost them, probably somewhere around the middle of district two when he'd put on a spurt of speed that had left him puffing and panting for ten minutes afterwards.

Even with that turn of speed, it'd still taken him four hours to get here. And it'd take him four to get back. He didn't have any time to lose.

One final check and he dropped off the ridge down into the narrow valley below. Karin had said it didn't look like much, and she was right. Just a scrubby twisted little ravine with the remains of a mine at one end. It was too small for bandits, too isolated for a family, and the traces of sekkiseki they'd laced the ground with kept most people with even low levels of power away. Ichigo could feel it already, dragging at his reiryoku.

Instinctively he tried to counteract it by absorbing reishi and had to force himself to stop when his belly rumbled hungrily.

Following Karin's detailed instructions he came up close to the mine entrance and flared his reiatsu, once-twice in quick succession then counted to ten before doing it again three times. An answering flare came four seconds after that and Ichigo answered it. Only then did a towering figure appear out of the Stygian darkness.

"Good evening, Shiba-sama. You're just in time for dinner," the fur-bundled man-mountain said, briefly bowing before leading the way back into the hillside.

They were expecting him. That was good. It meant the butterfly Ichigo had sent out last night had made contact.

Since it was impossible to tell if he was speaking to Koganehiko or to Shiroganehiko, Ichigo played it safe and simply quipped, "You're speaking my language," as he fell into step behind him.

The wind dropped completely as they entered the mouth of the mine and whichever retainer it was buried under all those clothes immediately sparked up a small kidō light, much to Ichigo's relief.

Inside, the tunnel split into two. The right hand route was wide, cut smooth with its roof properly supported with timbers. There were even the remains of torch holders regularly embedded in the walls. By contrast, the tunnel to the left looked like it ended in a rock fall about twenty yards in. Of course that was the way they went, because the other side had enough booby traps down it to challenge a seated officer. The Shiba didn't have a reputation for being good with explosives for nothing.

A narrow squeeze point took them past the rockfall and as they came out the other side, the heat hit. Ichigo immediately started stripping off his winter clothing, grateful that the walls were now wood-lined more like an ordinary corridor.

Shiroganehiko, Ichigo recognised him the second his tugged his collar down, only waited around long enough to take Ichigo's things and hang them on hooks on the wall, before heading back out with a slightly resentful, "Good appetite, your lordship."

Ichigo carried on alone. Doors opened off both sides of the corridor, but the one on the right was very slightly ajar. Ichigo peered inside, unable to prevent himself smiling at what he found; Uryū and Rikichi sat side by side, heads bowed over a scroll, almost close enough to touch, and Rikichi was reading, slowly and painstakingly; "The Suzaku emperor had been in bad health since his visit to Rokujō. Always a sickly man, he feared that this illness might be his last. Though it had long been his wish to take holy orders and retire from the world, he had not wanted to do so while his mother lived."

Uryū was still way too thin, and Rikichi's dressings, scars and empty sleeve told their own story, but both looked head and shoulders better than the last time Ichigo had seen them.

The soft brush of footsteps along the corridor made Ichigo glance up. Ryūken was walking slowly towards him, expression oddly open without the protection of his glasses. He looked better as well. His steps had lost the edge of hesitation they'd had before, like something might tear open again if he moved too fast.

Ichigo swallowed hard. That was way too likely to be accurate for comfort.

After a quick glance at the door, Ryūken said, "Uryū finds reading difficult without his glasses, and Rikichi needs the practice."

This seemed like a good solution for both of them to Ichigo, though… "Is it safe them being so close?"

"That's the other reason for doing it. Practice, for Uryū, at keeping his reishi absorption under control. Rikichi's a test subject, if you will." Ichigo pulled a face and, seeing it, Ryūken added, "He did volunteer. I believe his exact words were-"

"He's skinned me once, so how bad could it get, really?" Uryū said from inside the room, turning to squint towards the door. "My eyesight might be poor, father, but there's nothing wrong with my hearing."

Ryūken slid the door panel back. "The key to good eavesdropping is not getting caught," he pointed out coolly as he walked in.

"Then you shouldn't have been so obvious in wanting me to notice," Uryū retorted, and turned his attention to Ichigo. "Good evening, cousin. What brings you out to this little slice of hell on such a balmy night?"

Ichigo fought the urge to grin widely. If they were well enough to be sniping at each other again then he didn't have to worry about them, not anymore. "Dinner, hopefully. Or have you eaten it all, already?"

"Not all of us have your insatiable appetites," Uryū said, his hand heading towards his face, middle finger extended to push his glasses back up in that, 'I'm not insulting you, but you're a moron,' way he had. Halfway there, he seemed to remember his glasses were gone and neatly turned the action into one tucking his much longer bangs back over his ear. "But it just so happens you're in luck. Ganju is cooking tonight."

"Ganju?" Ichigo asked, pausing halfway through sitting down and nearly falling the rest of the way. "He cooks? Like, real edible food?"

"Yeah, and he's great at it," Rikichi grinned. It was wide and happy, and no way could Ichigo ever regret bringing this kid out of the 12th with them when they'd grabbed Uryū. Renji would feel the same, he was sure of it, wherever he might be right now.

His gut twisted at the reminder. He'd been so tied up thinking about the stuff with Urahara, he'd almost forgotten about searching for Renji and Byakuya. As soon as he was done, he needed to send someone through to the living world to look for them. First priority.

Since the others were looking to him for some comment, he said, "I thought he was back in Seireitei. How did he even get out here? The snow's got to be a foot thick."

"My Bonnie-chan would never be defeated by something so insignificant as snow!" Ganju declared, throwing the door wide and stomping in at the head of a chain of put-upon looking guys all carrying dishes and plates and trays.

"Bonnie-chan?" Ichigo whispered leaning close enough that Uryū'd be able to hear and no one else else.

Uryū shook his head. "The greatest love of Shiba Ganju's life, and don't ask, really. It's not something any sane man needs to know about," he answered.

Ichigo took in the serious expression, and the tasty looking spread and decided to accept wise counsel. There was no point in ruining a good meal with pointless conversation. And in Ichigo's experience, most conversations with Ganju fit that description. He'd be forever grateful to the guy for taking in Ryūken and Uryū, but seriously, unless you were talking boars, Ganju was an ass.

The meal was simple fare compared to what Ichigo had eaten at lunch time. Just grilled fish and mixed root vegetables in some kind of nutty sauce, but there was a tasty miso soup full of green onions and tofu to go with it, along with rice and pickles, so nobody was going to go hungry.

And it was good to see Uryū eating well, if slowly. Ichigo had no idea how he was managing to do it at all. The last time Ichigo had got an update, Ryūken was still having to feed him and his visits outside the sekkiseki-lined cave that lay further back into the tunnels here had been limited to a few minutes at a time.

He supposed he should have asked Karin before he left, but somehow that sort of detail always escaped him, and the past few hours had been insanely busy.

Ichigo was halfway through his second helping, and they were discussing whether they should lay in more supplies if the weather was going to turn severe, when Uryū pressed his hand to his chest, and Ichigo felt a tug on his reishi. Everyone fell silent, and for a second the sensation died back to almost nothing before building again. Finally Rikichi murmured, "Ishida-san, I think-"

"I'm going," Uryū snapped, rising quickly to his feet, his cheeks flushed.

He was embarrassed, Ichigo realised. He'd been trying to appear normal and having this happen, proof that he still couldn't control his body, humiliated him.

Tongue-tied, Ichigo watched his cousin leave with Ryūken on his heels, wishing he could think of something to say or do to take the sting of it away. Much as he enjoyed ribbing Uryū himself, this was different. None of this was Uryu's fault. It was all that bastard, Kurotsuchi.

After they'd gone, Ganju and Rikichi continued to pick at their food. Ichigo put his bowl down, no longer hungry. Though to be fair, this was the second huge meal he'd eaten today. If he kept that up, he'd end up Ōmaeda's size, even with all his reiatsu to burn it off.

"Eh, I guess I'd better go give Bonnie-chan her meal too," Ganju said finally, tossing down his chopsticks and stacking his empty bowls.

"She could have eaten with us," Ichigo replied a bit distractedly. He wanted to be polite, but he was more worried about Uryū that Ganju's current squeeze.

Beside him, Rikichi let out a quiet squeak, but Ganju just shrugged. "Ryūken-san doesn't like it. Says he won't share his table with the likes of her. I reckon he's just being a snob." Ganju clambered to his feet. "Anyway, I'm off. She'll get stroppy and try taking me hand off if I don't go soon." And with that he wandered out of the room.

"Take his hand off?" Ichigo murmured, not sure if his respect for Ganju had gone up or down with that revelation.

Beside him, Richiki snickered and immediately shoved his hand over his mouth, eyes dancing with mirth.

Ichigo levelled a glare at him. "Okay, spill. What did I miss?"

"Bonnie-chan isn't a person, it's Ganju-san's racing boar," Rikichi replied, between whoops of laughter, which, yeah, okay that made way more sense on so many levels than a girlfriend, because seriously what woman'd ever look twice at Ganju. Ichigo shuddered. He looked just like Dad, for fuck's sake.

Still, "I'm gonna kill Uryū when he's well enough to fight back," Ichigo muttered, stacking his own empty bowls with maybe a bit more force than necessary.

Rikichi did his own, much more deft with his single arm than Ichigo was expecting him to be. He paused to watch. After a second, Rikichi seemed to notice and gave Ichigo a questioning look.

"You''re getting good," Ichigo said with a jerk of his head.

Rikichi glanced down at his hand and his cheeks coloured. "I think it's more having the skin back. Ryūken-sensei is working very hard to make sure all of it is properly healed.

He probably was. Ichigo's uncle might be a bit of a cold fish, but he took his responsibilities as a doctor seriously. "I'm glad," Ichigo said, "For a while there I thought you were dead." He'd never forget his fear that the heavy weight tied to his back was already a corpse. And his rage when he got back to Urahara's hideout and found out the man had known it was all a trap.

And now he was planning on putting his faith in him all over again. He had to be insane.

Carrying a tray stacked with bowls, Ichigo followed Rikichi down the corridor to the small kitchen, where Ganju's friends were sitting round a table playing cards. Several candles stubs were stuck to the surface with wax and the hot smokiness of them competed with the smell of miso and fish in the air.

"Hey, shinigami-kid, you want in?" one of the guys, with blond hair that stuck up in a point at the front, asked.

Rikichi gave Ichigo a wide-eyed look. He obviously wanted to stay, but felt Ichigo was his responsibility. Ichigo waved him off. "Stay and play. I need to go talk to my uncle anyhow."

Leaving Rikichi settling in between blondie and the bald guy, and already talking bids, Ichigo wandered back through and headed for where Uryū's room had to be. He felt it before he saw it, the same kind of deadening muting effect that the windflower silk in his gloves had, but less intense and on everything all around him, not just his hands.

Uryū was dressed only in dark blue hakama and had his back towards the door when Ichigo slid it open. He was standing in front of the sekkiseki 'box', a smaller version of the room-sized one in Urahara's bolthole, and beside it, on the floor, lay a mattress with a folded yukata on top. Ryūken's bed, Ichigo guessed, since there was another bedroll inside the box. His uncle must be sleeping down here, which made sense if Uryū still wasn't fixed.

Currently Uryū was getting dressed and Ryūken was kneeling on the bedroll fiddling with the contents of a leather satchel.

"I thought you were eating," Uryū said, tugging his white shitagi closed and starting to tie it.

"We finished," Ichigo replied, coming in without being invited. Without clothing to hide the truth, Ichigo had seen that Uryū was still way too skinny. "I should have brought more down for you."

"There would have been little point," Ryūken said, wrapping up something that looked like a blood-pressure cuff. "There's a limit to what he can consume per day"

Ichigo strolled over and peered over his uncle's shoulder. The bag seemed to have various medical looking implements in it. And a familiar sealed white pot. The cream that Byakuya had used on Ichigo, and that Ichigo had stolen for Kira to use on Rikichi. Like all his memories of recent weeks, this one brought back a surge of emotions, mostly guilt.

In an effort to stave them off, Ichigo asked, "Why does how much he eats make a difference?"

Ryūken glanced up. A frown flashed across his face, before he said to Uryū, "Show him. He should know the truth."

For a second Ichigo thought Uryū might refuse. His expression went tight and cold, then he tugged his shitagi open again, averting his eyes as he bared his chest.

The scarring made it look like someone had played tic-tac-toe across him, about twenty times. They reached down further too, well below belt level from the looks of them, and they weren't all old either. A couple looked very pink and fresh, and were centred around a strange mark right between Uryū's nipples which looked kind of like a five sided star.

Ichigo frowned. He'd seen that somewhere before. But where?

"The shinigami are interested in our ability to absorb and manipulate reishi," Ryūken was saying as he rose to his feet. He gestured at Uryū. "This seems to have been an attempt to turn what is primarily a weapon into an implement capable of sustaining life."

That was it! It looked exactly like the thing he had wrapped in his spare gloves! "Kurotsuchi stuck a Quincy cross inside him?"

Ryūken's head shot round and he glared at Ichigo. "What do you know about the Quincy cross?" he demanded, and that tone of voice embodied every childhood scolding ever.

Ichigo took half a step back before remembering himself. "Nothing. I just heard it called that." And yeah, that sounded about five. Way to go Shiba-taichō-sama.

"It?" Ryūken was on his feet and Ichigo was getting even more nervous. "Are they talking about Uryū? Do they know where we are?"

"No, it's not-" Ichigo began, only to be interrupted by a familiar soft purr from behind him.

"Yes, they do, but you don't have to worry. No one's coming after you."

Ichigo swung round, reaching for Zangetsu, and immediately let out a strangled squeak and screwed his eyes shut. It didn't help. That image was going to be engraved on his brain for the rest of eternity - if he was lucky.

High full breasts with perky nipples, trim waist, a smooth belly with a perfect dip of a belly button, and below… dark curls and curves and… bits.

Even more blood rushed to Ichigo's cheeks, which was a miracle considering where else it was rushing. "Y-Yoruichi-dono," he managed. "What are you doing here?" Naked. In my cousin's bedroom.

No, that wasn't helping. No thinking about bedrooms.

Behind him came the scrape of cloth against cloth and then Ryūken said, with not even a tremor in his voice. "Do not assume because you are an unarmed woman that I will not kill you, should you attack me and mine." Ichigo's respect for his uncle sky-rocketed. Right now Ichigo couldn't have moved for anything.

"You're assuming that you could," Yoruichi replied. And that edge to her voice spelt danger, which Ichigo would mention any second now when his brain stopped looping on, Naked Woman!

"I'm a Quincy. You know what I'm capable of." Ryūken's voice was equally quiet and lethal, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second.

"And I am Shihōin Yoruichi, head of the onmitsukidō, thus any move you make will be met by immediate and deadly force."

Any moment now they were going fight, Ichigo could feel it. The wail broke from his chest embarrassingly loudly. "Guys! No naked fighting!"

Silence stretched. Then Yoruichi said, "I'll stand down if you will."

"And let you take us back? Never," Ryūken replied.

"That was never on the agenda, and strictly speaking, so long as neither of you hurts anyone, there's no law saying that I have to. Anyway, if I was going to, I'd have done it weeks ago. I've known about you since Kisuke got you out of Kurotsuchi's hands. Ask the brat, he'll tell you."

"Ichigo, is this true?"

Ryūken's sharp demand spoke straight to Ichigo's hind-brain. He snapped to attention, and ended up with a long look at sleek naked thighs and… higher, before he managed to fix his eyes on the floor.

"Um… " Words jammed up in his throat. Ichigo swallowed them down and tried again. "Yes?" It came out as a croak, because Naked!

Yoruichi snorted. "If you want a straight answer from the kid, you'd better chuck that yukata over."

A huff that sounded halfway between laughter and exasperation came from Ryūken, but it was followed a moment later by the thwomp of thrown cloth.

A couple of seconds afterwards, Yoruichi said, "Ok, boys. Coast's clear."

Tentatively, Ichigo raised his head to find Yoruichi sitting on the floor, wrapped in Ryūken's pale green sleeping yukata. Her grin was stupid and smug and Ichigo could feel himself blushing just being in the same room as it. When he looked around, Uryū's face was scarlet too. The only one of them that wasn't affected was Ryūken, and that was when the penny dropped.

"You knew we'd react like this!" Ichigo accused, pointing his finger at Yoruichi. "That's why you came in here naked. So me and Uryū wouldn't fight." Her grin widened into a real cat-got-the-cream expression, and the second shoe dropped, right on Ichigo's head. "And-and, you're the cat! The 2nd division spy-cat!" The one that had sprawled on his lap, eating fish, while he'd rubbed its belly.

Yoruichi's belly.

Yet again Ichigo's brain stalled out, just as Yoruichi said, "Hah! Kisuke was wrong. You're not as stupid as you look." She stretched luxuriously, revealing one long muscled leg. Uryū made a strange squawking sound.

Apparently impervious, Ryūken said quietly, "I still want to know why you're here, if it's not to arrest us."

That was what Ichigo wanted to know too, and he'd have asked if Yoruichi hadn't sat up and said, "Playing bodyguard to your nephew. So now you need to ask, what's he doing out here?"

All eyes turned on Ichigo, which was so unfair. Since when had this become about him? "Um…" he said, because lying to his uncle never worked, and if he told the truth then he'd be revealing that he'd lied about the Quincy cross at the trial. He was screwed either way.

"He said he came for dinner," Uryū said and that sounded weak even to Ichigo.

Yoruichi threw her head back and laughed, a bright cascade of sound. "If you actually believe that he left his division and came all the way out here just for a social visit then you really are stupid."

"So why did you come?" Ryūken asked, turning on Ichigo, and it was the genuine concern in his voice that made up Ichigo's mind. If this turned out to be a problem, they'd just have to find a way round it.

Fishing his spare gloves from inside his coat, he said, "To deliver this," and unwrapped the Quincy cross.

Ryūken reached out, taking gloves and cross in both hands, reverentially. "Where did you get it?" he asked, as Uryū peered round his arm to see as well.

"Is that-?" Uryū began, just as Ichigo said, "Mom. It was inside a lucky charm she made me."

"You know it's not hers," Ryūken said, still cradling the cross in its nest of silk. He glanced at Ichigo. "It belonged to my father. After he died, it became inert, but even so, it's a valuable heirloom. We thought it was lost. Thank you for returning it."

Inert? That meant not working, didn't it? Which couldn't be further from Ichigo's experience.

He flicked a look at Yoruichi, "Um, that might not be…" The words died away. He really didn't want to admit to lying at the trial, even to Yoruichi.

She smirked and leaned back on her hands, making the yukata gape worryingly low. "I knew it wasn't destroyed the second you made all that effort to get out here. No one goes through all that just to say goodbye, so go on, tell them. You might as well. Including the bit about how you used it to kill a shinigami."

"I had no choice, she was hollowfied and was going to kill me," Ichigo shot back, his gut twisting at a memory made even worse now that he knew Miyako had been mother to Kaien's son. "But I didn't mean to use Quincy magic to do it. I was just trying to manifest Zangetsu-"

"As if that's not a Quincy ability," Yoruichi muttered.

Ichigo ignored her as he continued, "I had to take my gloves off and I accidentally picked the cross up with bare hands and it went off."

"Impossible," Ryūken said. "All potential was drained from it when father used it for the sealing on Masaki."

"On mom?" Ichigo asked, just as Yoruichi leaned forward and said, "So he was a Master. I thought he might be."

"As if a shinigami like yourself could possibly understand the significance of that title," Ryūken retorted.

"A shinigami understood well enough to do that," Yoruichi replied, pointing at Uryū, who glanced down at his chest. Where Kurotsuchi had implanted the Quincy cross.

"The two things are nothing alike, and you know it!" Ryūken snapped back. "That is malicious brutality. A Master would never stoop so low."

Yoruichi waved a dismissive hand. "Similar enough. They're merging techniques to create something more powerful-"

"How could you possibly know that!" Never before had Ichigo heard his uncle raise his voice. Nor had he ever heard it so full of emotion. Ryūken's hand was shaking as he pointed at Yoruichi. "Unless you're one of them. One of the ones who took them after the Fall and cut them to pieces."

Yoruichi was shaking her head in denial. "No, not me. My mother was one of the ones trying to stop it from happening."

Ryūken frowned, his lips moving. A moment later he murmured, "Shihōin. Shihōin Hitomo?"

"Hiomo. My mother," Yoruichi replied firmly.

"But that was over a hundred and fifty years ago," Uryū put in, and that was it. Ichigo had had enough of everyone around here knowing more than he did.

He drew flared his reiatsu hard and drew the Shiba tanto from his kosode. It felt like toothpick compared to Zangetsu but it was the principle of the thing.

Yoruichi and Ryūken tossed unimpressed looks in his direction, while Uryū tucked his hair behind his ear just as insultingly as he ever pushed up his glasses, and said, "Honestly, Kurosaki, violence isn't the answer to everything."

Ichigo bared his teeth and growled, "It is to this. If someone doesn't start explaining, I'm gonna start hitting things. Now."

"I think that's your cue to talk," Yoruichi purred smugly at Ryūken. "If I was you, I'd start with what Quincy are and go from there."

Ryūken's gaze flicked quickly from her to Ichigo and back again. "So you can listen in to all our secrets? I don't think so."

"Then I'll tell him myself," she replied. "Ichigo, the Quincy are monsters. They sell parts of their souls for power and then slaughter hollows to feed their master's appetite for-"

"That is a lie!" Ryūken snapped over the top of her. "Soul Society propaganda and you know it."

Yoruichi smirked at him. "You had your chance to tell him your version. Want to change your mind?"

"It started thousands of years ago," Uryū said quietly.

Ryūken spun on him, almost spitting as he hissed, "I forbid you to speak of those things in front of her!"

"Why, father? To keep Quincy secrets? What's the point? Mother's dead, you're dead, and so am I. There are no more Quincy."

For a second Ryūken seemed to freeze in place, then he said in a voice that still sounded raw, "So you would desecrate the memories of your ancestors by sharing information with the enemy?"

"If it means helping one of us here and now, then yes. Memories are just that, father. You heard what Ichigo said. The cross worked for him. He was able to use it to draw power. If he doesn't learn how to control that ability, he could end up the same as me."

"He already has," Yoruichi put in. "Why d'you think he's wearing those gloves. Kid nearly ate a third seat by accident."

"See!" Uryū said. "He has to be trained, and only you can do that. Let me share the stories, and maybe…" His gaze flicked to Yoruichi, "Maybe we'll all learn something."

Yoruichi dipped her chin. "Now there's the Katagiri tolerance my mother spoke of."

"Katagiri?" Uryū's brows drew down in confusion and he frowned at Ryūken. "That was mother's name before she was married. I thought she was Gemischt? Why would a mixed blood be trusted to negotiate with the shinigami?"

For a second Ryūken looked supremely uncomfortable, then he said, "Back then, they were Gescht, pure-blood. Your mother was only the second generation mixed."

Uryū stared at him for so long that even Ichigo started to feel uncomfortable. Finally he said slowly, as if it hurt to say the words, "She was a servant to your family for years. And right up to when she died, she believed a servant was all she deserved to be, because of her impure blood!"

This time there was no mistaking the flinch. "That wasn't my fault," Ryūken said. "I tried to explain to her. But mother hated the idea of us mixing with humans. Our pure blood was supposed to make us superior to them, and it had to be kept that way at any cost. That was why she and father adopted Masaki. With her as part of the family, mother felt it would be easier to force us together."

"Whoa!" Ichigo blurted. "You and mom were supposed to marry?" Because seriously, that was just a mind fuck.

Uryū didn't look a bit surprised, not even when Ryūken explained, "That was the plan. It didn't work of course, not after the hollow attacked her. Then she was bound to your father."

"You knew all this and never told me? Either of you?" Ichigo demanded. "What about dad? Did he know?" Was Ichigo the only one being kept in the dark and fed bullshit?

"I assume so," Ryūken replied immediately. "He was around the family for a very long time, since the 40s I think. Long before I was born, anyway. So he must have known."

Ichigo stared at Ryūken in disbelief, trying to adjust what he knew of his dad to what he'd just learnt, and make it fit with what he remembered of his parents together. It wasn't fitting. None of it.

"Dad was a friend of your father's and he married my mom? That's…" Wrong. Perverted. Cradle robbing in the extreme.

Except he'd already known that, hadn't he. Isshin was a shinigami and thus centuries older than Masaki. The only real difference now was that Ichigo knew Isshin had been friends with Ryūken's father instead of meeting his mom in some romantic tryst.

And anyway, how much older than him was Byakuya, or Renji? Compared to them, he was a child, but that didn't mean he didn't love them. Both of them. Like his mom and dad loved each other.

The truth of that clicked into place, and brought a whole load of other shit with it. But he needed to know more if he was going to survive this and protect his family. All of them, including Yoruichi in a strange, off the wall kind of way.

He levelled a serious look at Ryūken, and put his heart into his words. "Ojii-san, Yoruichi-dono is right. She's known about you guys for weeks. And, okay, she's been spying on me, but that's only because the alternative was me getting locked up for using the cross. So, you can trust her, I think, and I need to know this stuff. It's part of who I am too."

Ryūken's expression twisted just slightly, his gaze cutting away as he said, "But to tell a shinigami…" Damn it, he still wasn't convinced. What else could Ichigo say or do to make him bend?

"Vor tausend tausend Jahre, hatte die Soul-König eine Tochter," Yoruichi intoned, the foreign sounds strangely harsh compared to her usual tones.

Hearing the words, Ryūken sank to the floor like a someone had unplugged him, his shoulders suddenly too angular and his spine too prominent above his collar as his head met his hands. He was nowhere near as well as he was making out, Ichigo realised suddenly.

Ichigo made a move towards him, but Uryū got there first. "Father?" he murmured, hunkering down beside him. "She already knows. Let me tell Ichigo."

For the longest moment Ichigo thought he still wouldn't bend, but eventually Ryūken nodded, his hair brushing his hands. Uryū's fingers tightened on his father's shoulder, and rather than stand, he slipped round to sit next to him. Ichigo sat as well.

It took a couple of moments for Uryū to start, and when he did it was with the same words Yoruichi had used. "Vor tausend tausend Jahre, hatte die Soul-König eine Tochter," he repeated, the language rolling off his tongue like it belonged there. "'A thousand thousand years ago, the Soul King had a daughter.' It's the beginning of the oldest Quincy legend, a creation myth I suppose."

Uryū shrugged slightly. "But that's just a story. All you need to know is that a very long time ago, a small group of humans were somehow exposed to the reiatsu of the Soul King. It raised their reiryoku enough to make them spiritually aware, and also made them vulnerable to hollows. They became targets and, presumably, would have been wiped out if one of them hadn't discovered that they also now had the ability to manipulate reishi."

He gestured to his own chest, where the scarring was just visible above his shitagi. "They invented a mechanism by which someone with the correct abilities could manifest a weapon capable of damaging hollows. Armed with those, the spiritually aware humans defended themselves, driving off the hollows that came after them.

"And for the longest time, that was that. There are hints that there may have been some informal contact with shinigami, but if there was, it seems to have been peaceful.

"All that changed when He was born."

Ichigo heard the capitalisation. "He?" he asked, since it seemed kind of expected.

Uryū nodded approvingly like Ichigo had performed a clever trick and said, "His majesty, Yhwach, King and Father of the Quincy."

Beside Ichigo, Ryūken seemed to shrink into himself. Uryū's gaze flitted briefly to his father before he continued, "He was some kind of mutation, I think. There's no record of who his parents were or what family he came from. In truth, not much survives at all from before he rose to power. He probably ordered a lot of it destroyed.

"Anyway, that's not really important. What does matter is what he could do. Ordinary Quincy can absorb reishi and reiryoku from the world around them, but we don't leak and effect the people around us, not like shinigami tend to. Yhwach did, but more than that, the bits of him that leaked out changed the lives of the people around him, like, I don't know, some kind of wish granting spirit?"

"It was more than that," Ryūken said suddenly. "He filled the empty places in people's bodies and souls. He took away loneliness and replaced it with love, he took away fear and put courage and comradeship in its place. He healed the sick, gave hope to the weak and made even the smallest child as strong as a lion."

"Now that sounds like propaganda," Yoruichi chimed in. Ichigo had almost forgotten she was there.

Ryūken nodded, rubbing at his chest. "It is, but even propaganda is rooted in truth. What I'm saying is, it was more than granting wishes. Somehow, what he did was use pieces of himself to complete people. And when those people died, that part of their soul, imprinted with all that made them who they were, went back to Yhwach and made him more powerful."

That made a crazy sort of sense. "Okay, so what happened then?"

"The catch, basically," Ryūken said, lifting his head so he was looking straight at Ichigo. "Without people dying to feed him pieces of their souls, Yhwach would die himself, so he sent out more pieces. And in the process, discovered that anything his soul came into contact with while it was out there also came back to him when it died.

"In other words, the only limit to his potential for growth was the number of souls he could infect and then kill."

Ichigo shuddered. "Something like that'd spread like wildfire. He could have wiped out the whole world, zombie apocalypse style."

"He could, except he didn't attack other humans," Uryū said, taking up the story again. "Remember, the touch of his soul completes people and they turn to him for everything. He didn't want that. This was over a thousand years ago. Trying to keep that number of people fed and housed would've been a logistical nightmare, even with Yhwach's abilities.

"So he went for hollows instead. The Quincy, as they'd started calling themselves by this point, started actively hunting them. Which shouldn't have been a problem, except that now one hit from a Quincy weapon instantly removed the lack that had made them hollows in the first place. It didn't just kill them, or cleanse them like shinigami do, it destroyed them completely."

Not good. "That'd upset the balance between the worlds," Ichigo said, trying to prove that he had learnt something since coming to Soul Society.

"Which is when the shinigami got involved," Yoruichi put in. "They didn't know about Yhwach at the time, so Central 46 discussed the problem and decided that the best solution was to reduce Quincy numbers down to an absolute minimum."

Ryūken snorted. "Wipe us out, you mean."

Yoruichi didn't deny it. She shrugged. "Something had to be done. The situation couldn't be allowed to continue."

"Yet you made no attempt to negotiate and simply stormed in, slaughtering every Quincy you could find," Ryūken retorted. "Unarmed women, children. It didn't matter. None were spared."

"And there you have the root cause of all the problems between shinigami and Quincy," Uryū said, spreading his hands as Ryūken and Yoruichi glared at each other across six foot of tatami and centuries of hatred.

Ichigo just wanted to hit something. It was all so fucking typical. Shinigami not giving anyone the benefit of the doubt, or even a chance to explain, and humans acting like selfish idiots and not backing down from a crisis of their own making.

They kind of deserved each other, except as usual it wasn't the idiots making stupid decisions that suffered, it was the ordinary people. Quincy kids who didn't know any better, and hollowfied human souls destroyed instead of being cleansed and given a second chance.

"Didn't anyone even try talking?" he asked.

"Not that time," Yoruichi said. "We thought we'd destroyed them, but in truth we'd only driven them way underground."

Uryū blinked his agreement. "Yhwach vanished. My grandfather theorised that so many Quincy dying at once overloaded him and then, combined with a huge drop-off in returning souls afterwards, he went into some kind of hibernation." He gestured with spread fingers. "Whatever the reason, the few Quincy that were left found themselves alone and in hiding."

"Which was when some of you came to your senses," Yoruichi said, sitting forward tailor style. "Or so mother told me."

"I'd call it more a split along philosophical lines," Uryū told her. "After Yhwach disappeared, another legend sprang up, the Kaiser Gesang. It told of the sleeping King who would one day waken and lead the Quincy to victory. A large majority of the Quincy felt that working towards reviving that King was the only way forward and that they had to achieve their ambition, no matter the cost. They started to experiment with their abilities, achieving things that were heretofore only dreamed about."

"And at incredible cost. The damage they did to themselves, to their very souls, was appalling." Ryūken looked sick. "To bring themselves down to that level, it made them no better than the shinigami."

Uryū was looking thoughtful. "For some of them, I think it was self-defence. If they failed to prepare for the King's return, they might not survive it." He glanced over at Ichigo. "That was the other part of the legend. In order to finally awaken, the King would reclaim some of the parts of himself that were inside living Quincy, killing them outright or weakening them to the point they became easy targets for hollows or shinigami. Since it was presumed that he'd only choose those who were impure or disloyal, strong meant safe, hence the experimentation.

"But it left the tiny minority of Quincy who saw Yhwach's disappearance as an opportunity to break free from him, at an impasse. They had to find a way of securing the part of Yhwach's soul that they all carried inside them against the _Auswählen_." Uryū paused, frowning. "A rough translation of that would be, 'selection', I guess?

"Anyway, they came up with a method of sealing the soul fragment, that all Quincy, even to this day-"

"Which has nothing to do with the shinigami," Ryūken interrupted firmly, just as Ichigo said, "Woah! All Quincy? Even you guys?"

Uryū shot him a disparaging look. "Yes, Kurosaki, even 'us guys', and you and your sisters, as well, since you are apparently Quincy."

Yuzu and Karin?

Ichigo felt sick. "How can we get it out of them?"

"Were you not listening to anything I was saying?" Uryū snapped. "It can't be removed, it can only be sealed more deeply."

No, that was no good. "But what if this guy tries this Housevalen thing again?" Ichigo demanded, up on his feet and ready to fight, to protect his sisters.

Uryū had opened his mouth to retort when Ryūken cut across the top of them, "Enough, both of you." Ichigo glared him, sensing Uryū do the same. Both got ignored for their trouble. The second Ryūken had their attention, he continued, "Uryū, if you're going to argue, you should lay your facts out clearly. Ichigo, Yhwach is dead. The shinigami destroyed him at the end of the last war."

"It's true," Yoruichi put in. "We used a combination of high level barriers and Aizen's shikai to isolate him from his people, at the same time making him believe that he was still getting back soul fragments from battles. It took six days of toe to toe fighting to keep the remaining Quincy at bay, but we held. Just."

"And then you took what Quincy were left and hacked them up to see what they were made of," Ryūken shot back, his voice raw. "After we gave you the information that allowed you to defeat him."

"Mother tried to stop them. If your people hadn't assassinated her -"

"Our people?" Ryūken looked devastated. "There wasn't enough of our people left free to fill a tea-cup, let alone assassinate a captain-level shinigami. Five families. Five. That was it. From a population of almost ten thousand."

Oh crap. No wonder Ryūken was so pissed. Ichigo swallowed hard.

"There were witnesses," Yoruichi came back. "Trustworthy people who saw him do it."

"Then they were wrong! There is nothing anywhere in the records to suggest that McAllon was anything but genuine in his negotiations. My father-"

"Didn't know him." Yoruichi made a cutting gesture. "According to those who were with her, my mother was sure something was wrong for days before it happened. But she didn't want to stop negotiating, because the moment she did, the others would move in, and then your people would be lost."

"Or maybe they just wanted people to think that so that when they killed her, they could blame us!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Um, guys," Ichigo said, when it looked like the argument was going to spin out of control again. "Didn't you say Aizen was involved?"

Yoruichi frowned at him. "Yes, so?"

How come no one else made these connections except for him. "Well, isn't it possible that he was behind it? Making people think this Quincy guy did the deed when maybe it was him, or someone else?"

Yoruichi's frown deepened for a brief second before she waved the idea aside. "Impossible. He was under guard. If he'd been using his shikai, Central 46 would have known."

"And there was no precedent for them authorising genocidal actions against us," Ryūken muttered, "So obviously they couldn't possibly have known."

Yoruichi stared at him, then at Ichigo. He could almost see her mind flying through the implications. "You said you have your father's records?" she said suddenly.

"My grandfather's," Ryūken replied. "He was there every day of the proceedings except the last. And yes, they should still be safe, though getting at them might be difficult."

"Why? Where are they?"

Ryūken looked at Yoruichi like she'd lost her mind. "Safe. Somewhere lying shinigami can't get their hands on them."

That earned him a huff of amusement. "I could protect you. And your son. Arrange for you to have some level of freedom here until you move on again."

Ryūken shook his head. "Empty promises. Karin told us how your supposedly omnipotent onmitsukidō couldn't even prevent the slaughter of its own government. A pair of Quincy would stand little chance, don't you think?"

"There are places in the living world-"

"No."

"Father-" Uryū said, taking a step forward.

Ryūken gestured at him angrily, shutting him down. "Not this time. There are things in those records that should not be shared, not even when the alternative is them vanishing completely. In fact, it might be better if they did disappear than fall into the sort of hands that would mutilate a soul merely out of curiosity."

Like Kurotsuchi, or Urahara. Or Aizen. Ichigo couldn't blame his uncle for a second for wanting to keep the Quincy's secrets hidden. Armed with that sort of shit, who knew what they might be capable of.

"If that's your final answer, then I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do," Yoruichi said.

Ichigo's hand tightened on the tanto, his whole body reacting to her voice. "You're going to arrest them?"

The look he got was slightly amused, but mostly disappointed and kind of tired. "I already said I wouldn't. But I can't stop it happening if word of them being here gets out, which it will eventually, especially if you and your sister keep popping back and forth."

"Understood," Ichigo replied, mind whirling. If people were starting to notice, he'd have to get them moved, somehow. Maybe further out? Not that that would be safe either. Nowhere would be, not while most of Seireitei saw them as only one step above guinea pigs, if that.

There was only one way to protect them.

"I need to go," Ichigo said. Time was ticking. He had to find Urahara and get bankai, then he'd do what Byakuya suggested he should have done in the first place, and bring his cousin and uncle into the clan legally. As proven Shiba, they'd be safe.

Yoruichi rose elegantly to her feet. "I'll wait for you outside while you say your goodbyes," she said, reaching for her belt. Ichigo averted his eyes as she stripped off the yukata, and still managed to catch a glimpse of smooth shoulder. "Thanks for the lend, Ishida-san. I'm sorry we couldn't reach an agreement."

"I'm sorry too," Ryūken replied. "If your mother was anything like you, I can see why the Katagiri thought it was worth persevering."

There was a whoosh of displaced air, and the padding footsteps which left the room were definitely not human. Ichigo opened his eyes to find Ryūken staring at the open doorway, the yukata in his hands.

When he sensed Ichigo's gaze on him, he looked round. "What did she mean, 'say your goodbyes'?" he asked.

Uryū, his cheeks slightly pink, was ducking into the sekkiseki box. He pulled up short and said, "She mentioned that twice, actually, which does seem strange."

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo said, "I'm going into intense bankai training. It's only three days but Urahara said it might be dangerous and that I should make sure I'd no unfinished business."

Ryūken's expression twisted at the mention of Urahara's name. "Be careful of that man, Ichigo," he said, "You can't believe anything he says, and he's far more dangerous than he appears."

Which made him pretty fucking dangerous. Ichigo dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I will, I promise."

"And try to let us know how it went," Uryū said. "Sitting out here waiting, when you're already dead, would be intolerable."

Ichigo grinned. "Yeah, I'll miss you too, little coz."

"By less than four months!" Uryū protested as Ichigo lifted his hand in farewell and left.

Koganehiko was waiting with his outdoor clothing and, before long, Ichigo was picking his way out of the valley through the snow. Now the cloud had cleared, the night was beautiful but strangely eerie. Drifts glowed pale in the moonlight, with deep pools of shadow between them that could be concealing anything.

It was as he passed one of them that Yoruichi, back in cat form, scared him half to death by leaping onto his shoulder. The resulting squawk and flail was more embarrassing than seeing her naked.

"Idiot!" he complained, once he could speak again and his heart had stopped trying to pound its way out of his chest. "Warn a guy first. I could've cut you in half."

Yoruichi pressed a freezing nose against the warm skin behind his ear and grumbled in a deep masculine voice. "You took ages. My paws are cold."

"Serves you right for doing the thing with the clothes," Ichigo retorted, stepping into shunpo. "And anyway, how come you can suddenly talk in cat form?"

"I always could," Yoruichi replied, her claws digging into his shoulder in time with his steps.

By the time the walls of Seireitei rose before them, time was getting on and Ichigo was exhausted. Not exactly the start he wanted to a potentially lethal training exercise. He dropped out of shunpo several streets back, and trudged towards the gate. His forged papers got him back inside without incident and not a single eyebrow got raised at the cat that came with him.

A few hundred yards inside the city which was already stirring with early morning life, Yoruichi suddenly said, "Take a left here."

"Why?" Ichigo asked, doing as he was told anyway. A moment later, his own nose answered the question and his stomach rumbled hungrily as the scent of cooking filled the air.

"It's too late for a nap," Yoruichi said, dropping from his shoulder as they stopped outside a small kiosk. "But eating will help build up your energy levels."

The stall wasn't officially open yet, but once she saw Ichigo's coin, the owner didn't have a problem with opening early. Ichigo took a seat under the awning to wait, rolling his eyes at Yoruichi when she jumped up on the stool next to him.

"You ready for this?" she asked.

Ichigo shrugged and rolled his chopsticks across his napkin. "Without bankai, I can't hold the 6th, and the people there need me to protect them, so yeah, I'm ready."

"And Zangetsu?"

A quick inquiry got him a very distinct yes. Ichigo let his smile at Zangetsu's enthusiasm show on his lips. "Yeah, we're in this together."

Yoruichi studied him for a long moment, then dipped her head, "Good. If that's the case, you might survive it."

"How many people have?" He shouldn't be asking. It was a dumb question. He probably didn't even want to know the answer.

"Apart from Kisuke himself, two," Yoruichi replied, then fell silent as the woman appeared with the bowls of steaming fresh rice, fragrant grilled fish and pickles.

Ichigo's belly rumbled again and the stall-holder flashed him an indulgent smile as she arranged the dishes in front of him. "I like to see a young man with a good appetite," she said. "Dig in. There's plenty more if you want it."

Ichigo nodded his thanks and did as he was told, making happy noises over the salty flavour of the fish and the spiciness of the pickled daikon, until Yoruichi's almost constant growling made him break off a decent sized chunk of fish and put it on the stool for her. Then they ate in silence, Ichigo ordering two more portions before he felt ready to face whatever Urahara had in store for him.

"Time to go," he said finally, sliding the money across the counter. The sky was starting to look pinkish towards the east. He couldn't hang around any longer.

Yoruichi leapt for his shoulder, earning herself a pleased laugh from the stall-holder, and together they headed towards Sōkyoku Hill.

When they reached it, Ichigo stopped at the bottom and stared up at the monstrous bit of geography, trying to find the words that might put over what he wanted to say. He wasn't scared for himself. He was either going to gain bankai or die trying. It was what might happen if he didn't come back that worried him.

"Don't worry, I'll look after them," Yoruichi said, already sitting on the ground at his feet. "Your sisters, your friends, the 6th. All of them."

"Thanks," Ichigo said. "I appreciate it." And he meant it, because he knew she would. Karin, Yuzu, even Chad would be safe if Yoruichi said they would be. And if they were, then Uryū and Ryūken would be kept safe as well. Karin would see to that.

But they weren't the only ones he had to worry about.

Should he tell her about Byakuya maybe being in the living world? And about Renji not being in the prison? Apart from Iba-neesan, Ichigo was the only one who knew about that.

He could only tell her, if he really trusted her.

Ichigo looked down into baleful golden cat-eyes and knew the answer immediately. No. Not with that, he couldn't.

In Yoruichi's world, Byakuya and Renji were both criminals, and even though she was Byakuya's fiance, Yoruichi was also onmitsukidō. If she got the order to kill, she'd do it without hesitation.

He took a deep breath and puffed it out. There was nothing for it. He was going to have survive this and then go and find them himself.


	17. Throwing Bones (Deadeye)

_The tent was empty, its heavy canvas sides hanging motionless in the still air. _

_As he stepped through the open door, his hair swung loose about his face and the hem of his ragged yukata brushed against his shins. Dead grass crunched beneath his bare feet. Outside, nothing stirred. No breeze to supplement stifled breath, no moon to pull on the blood, no sun to warm chilled skin. Just a bruise-purple sky arching from horizon to far horizon over fields of bleached bones. _

_Pain stabbed through his chest, a familiar constant in this place. But this time there were no comforting arms to hold him, no firm voice to reassure, no strength offered up to reinforce his own. _

_Like the dead littering the ground, his armour was gone. _

_He was alone, stripped bare and cast out._

Byakuya jerked awake, groping for a sword hilt he would never find. Never, because Senbonzakura was gone. Torn away by Muramasa, and used by the traitor, Aizen, to slaughter Central 46 and lay the blame at Byakuya's feet.

Agony, like the thrust of Gin's blade, pierced his heart all over again, and even the heel of his hand pressed to his lips couldn't prevent the quiet sob that escaped.

"Byakuya?" Renji murmured sleepily, lifting his head from where it had been resting on Byakuya's lap.

Byakuya quickly lowered his hand, brushing his fingers gently through ragged crimson strands and over the slight fuzz that was finally starting to cover the bald spots. "It's nothing," he husked, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. "Go back to sleep."

Renji obeyed and, as his breathing evened out again, Byakuya's did the same, his mind and body somehow finding solace in both the repetitive action and being close to Renji.

With a small sigh of relief, Byakuya tipped his head back against the wall and blinked up at the modern tiled ceiling. Music and canned laughter drifted on the evening air through thin walls from the apartment next door. It was early yet, not even close to midnight. The first day of their new life in Karakura Town, and Byakuya had no idea what he was going to do.

He kept hoping things would get better, that somehow his soul would heal itself, but if anything it was getting worse. His concentration was terrible, his thoughts disjointed. He needed some proper sleep, and yet every time he tried, his mind echoed with the silence in his heart. He felt bereft, his soul ripped apart, and none of it was going to change until Senbonzakura was back where it belonged, at Byakuya's side.

But how could he even start trying to retrieve it when Aizen was in Soul Society and Byakuya was an exiled criminal, trapped here in the living world?

He daredn't even consider approaching Ichigo, not after taking such pains to distance himself, so maybe a good first step would be to explain everything to Renji. Because unlike Byakuya, Renji seemed to be healing. He probably wouldn't see it himself since he'd spent so long in a kidō induced slumber, but he was getting stronger all the time. What he had achieved on the plane against that arrancar had been nothing less than phenomenal. Not only had he been able to rescue himself when Byakuya had been too slow to catch him, but he'd had the presence of mind to come up with a workable plan and implement it. Compared to how he'd been for the past few weeks, it was miraculous. And all he'd needed was the proper medical care.

The doctor responsible for that was a barely visible lump, snoring beneath the kotatsu quilt across the other side of the darkened room. Not that Byakuya resented Arisawa getting some rest. Far from it. News of the Ishida's deaths had hit the old man hard, and he was much frailer than Byakuya had first assumed. The complete opposite of Renji, who was so much stronger than Byakuya could have believed possible, mentally and physically. Even without Zabimaru, he seemed to have retained the core of himself infinitely better than Byakuya had.

As though sensing himself being the subject of Byakuya's thoughts, Renji mumbled something in his sleep and shifted restlessly. Glancing down, Byakuya realised that he'd stopped stroking Renji's hair. He smiled sadly and started again, huffing amusement as Renji snuggled closer and wound his fingers into the cloth of Byakuya's hakama. Considering all he'd been through, he looked so peaceful. Maybe if Byakuya asked, he'd be able to explain how he was doing it, where he was finding the strength to keep going when all Byakuya wanted to do was give up.

He was on the brink of actually doing it, waking Renji and telling him, asking him, something, when he felt it. A blip of reiatsu. It came from outside, but close by. And it was just a blip, like someone had sneezed and lost control for a split second. Even so, it meant there was someone there. Either hollow or shinigami.

Easing Renji gently but firmly to the floor, Byakuya rose and trod swiftly to the window. Behind him, Renji sat up, instantly alert. "Taichō?" he asked, a world of questions contained in that single word.

He might have lost all right to the rank, but hearing Renji use it with the same bone-deep faith that he always showed felt like a shot of pure self-confidence into Byakuya's veins. If Renji needed his captain, then Byakuya would step up to the mark and play the part. It was that simple.

Gesturing for Renji to remain quiet, he said, "Wake Arisawa. There's someone watching us." Then, not bothering to stop and check he would be obeyed, Byakuya focused on the window, twitching aside the black-out curtain and peering out into the night.

Pools of cool orange light gleamed along the road, punctuated by brighter white as the occasional car whooshed past, but they were the only signs of life. Most of the surrounding apartments lay in darkness. And of a spy, there was no sign. If there was someone out there, they were keeping to the shadows.

Slowly, Byakuya allowed a tendril of reiatsu to unfurl, sending it out like a feeler to taste and test the surrounding area. And yes! There, on the roof of the adjacent building, was a small patch of resonating space where the natural order of the world was being disturbed by the presence of someone with high levels of reiatsu. It could be a human like Zommari or Arisawa, but that seemed unlikely. That slight burst he'd felt had been powerful, and a human with those sorts of levels would be unlikely to have that much control.

Thus it was either a spy from Soul Society, or one of Aizen's lackeys, if it was even possible to draw a distinction between those two any longer. With Central 46 gone, control of Seireitei would fall to the Gotei and primarily the sōtaichō. As his lieutenant, Aizen would have access to unprecedented amounts of political influence. And that was always presupposing the sōtaichō wasn't already entirely under his command, which Byakuya doubted. Better to assume that anyone from Soul Society was Aizen's, willing or otherwise. After all, Byakuya couldn't even trust his own senses, so he could hardly blame anyone else for being taken in by the traitor's illusions.

"Stay here and guard Arisawa," Byakuya said, and without a single backward glance, stepped into a burst of shunpo. Senka, a precise move which placed him behind the interloper, in the perfect position to disable and if necessary kill. Even without Senbonzakura, he could achieve the same ends using the right kidō.

Except the face he saw in the split second before releasing the spell made him hesitate.

Hisana, his own lieutenant, stared back at him in the dim light, her eyes wide with shock and fear. And then she was gone, reappearing a moment later in the sky behind him, skidding into a half-crouch, her zanpakutō drawn and levelled at Byakuya as though he was the enemy.

Understandable, he supposed. Though if she had news from Soul Society, why hadn't she approached him directly? Unless-

Byakuya's next step of shunpo took him straight through Hisana, scooping her up and slamming her into the side of the building in the middle of the patch of light emanating from Arisawa's apartment. Holding her there, pinned by the front of her shihakushō and her sword arm, he searched the woman's face.

The woman who was not, quite, Hisana.

An illusion, it had to be. But this time he would not be taken in so easily.

"Who are you?" Byakuya snarled, letting loose the full power of his reiatsu. Window, wall and shinigami all rattled under the force of it, but Byakuya didn't care. If Aizen had come for him, he would not back down. Not again.

"R-R-" the woman was stuttering. Byakuya shook her hard, the urge to end her rising in his throat. Another illusion, another trick of the mind, designed to push him into madness and make him hurt those closest to him! Never again, Aizen. Never again!

"Shit, is that-?" Renji's voice cut through Byakuya's rising rage. "Taichō, don't kill her! That's Rukia, Hisana's kid sister!"

Sagara Rukia? From the 13th?

Byakuya yanked his reiatsu back in so quickly that it stung, and took a second look at the panting girl dangling from his fist. Yes, now Renji had pointed it out, he could see the slight differences in face shape, in eye colour. What he'd first assumed was a fault in the illusion could just as easily be a family resemblance. But that didn't make her any less a spy, if perhaps an unwitting one.

Jerking the girl away from the wall, he tossed her into the apartment, touching down briefly on the balcony before following her inside. Having caught his spy, he didn't intend to let her get away again.

Another source of reiatsu flared in the night sky, this one foul with hollow stink and bearing down on them with more speed than should be possible. Byakuya spun into a crouch, reaching for Senbonzakura, his first and best defence, only to find nothing.

For the briefest of moments, both hand and mind stuttered, thrown by absence where there should be strength, and then the reiatsu was upon him. The glass doors imploded, shattering into thousands of diamond fragments that slammed into Byakuya like a kidō at pointblank range, catching him exposed and entirely defenceless.

Pain tore a sudden scream from his throat and stripped rational thought from his mind. He was down before he could stop himself falling, blinded and gasping, knowing only that he hurt.

That the hollow had hurt him. And that, if it could do this to him, then what could it do to Renji? To the others.

They needed him. He had to be there for them.

He needed to stop the the pain. And to do that he needed to regain control.

Lessons drilled into him from before he could talk gave him a solid place to stand. Like dragging himself up a cliff face by his fingernails, Byakuya forced himself to move beyond the pain, beyond the damage, beyond the shock his body was succumbing to.

He was on his hands and knees. His head hung between his arms, hair loose around his face, with something wet dripping onto the backs of his hands. Blood, probably, though he couldn't tell for sure because the world was nothing but shades of red and black, and even the thought of opening or moving his eyes made the pain roar back.

Byakuya clutched at control, caught it, and finally managed to wrap it around himself. It wouldn't last forever, but hopefully long enough.

Familiar hollow reiatsu flooded the room. This was the arrancar he had faced on the plane, only this time it had brought a companion. The two landed close together and close to him, close enough that, in another moment, he might be able to retaliate. Drop them before they knew he was still a threat.

He swallowed, took a breath, and prepared to move. But before he could, metal kissed his throat.

Byakuya froze.

"Yey, well done," a light female voice said. "Though, try not to breathe too hard. Tsubaki's really enthusiastic about slicing things up with his sword."

If Yoruichi were in this position, she would no doubt use one of her stealth manoeuvres to remove herself from enemy hands before they even had the chance to react. Unfortunately, Byakuya had no such skills, and blinded as he was, his hakuda would get him nothing but a slit throat if he tried. There could be no mistake. Whoever these hollow worked for, they currently had the advantage. Byakuya had no choice but to control himself and wait for an opening.

Sharp-nailed fingers wound into his hair, tugging his head up and back, stretching the tenuous grip he had on his control. Then the same voice spoke again in a light husky whisper, far too close to his ear for comfort. "Tell me, shinigami-san, why does your reiatsu taste so much like Kurosaki-kun's?"

* * *

He'd pulled his back again. He'd felt it tear as they ran. Arisawa was going to kill him, but only if they both survived the next few minutes.

Shoving the old man behind the cupboards in the kitchen and hissing instructions to not fucking move, Renji crawled to the open doorway and peered round the jamb. One glance told him everything he needed to know.

Rukia was a motionless dark heap in the middle of the living room floor. Either the blast had knocked her out cold, or she was playing possum. Renji hoped it was the latter, because he was going to need all the help he could get. One of the hollows that had Byakuya on his knees over by the balcony was the orange-haired arrancar from the plane, and Renji wasn't in any hurry for a repeat of their last encounter. Plus this time she came with a friend.

Trying not to panic, Renji dodged back and pressed himself to the wall, mind working frantically. That blood-curdling scream and the way Byakuya wasn't fighting back told Renji that Byakuya was definitely injured, but if the hollows were still guarding him then he wasn't down and out, and that meant, if Renji could cause some kind of distraction, maybe Byakuya could get free.

But what? And how?

Another quick glance, and this time Renji caught sight of a pair of eyes peering out from under a shihakushō sleeve, just visible in the orange glow from the streetlight coming in through the broken glass doors. It was Rukia! She was awake.

The promise of support was enough to fortify his nerves. Without letting himself think twice, Renji pushed up off the wall, tightened his hand on the asauchi, and stepped out into the living room.

As he did so, the female arrancar rose fluidly to her feet to face him. If she was the same one from the plane then her mask had changed. Last time Renji had seen it, it had been forcing her mouth open into a scream. Now, most of it had shrunk into little whirly curls on her cheeks that stretched up into the hair at her temples, holding it back like hair-clips.

"Let him go," Renji said, drawing the asauchi.

"Or you'll do what?" the arrancar replied with a quirk of her lips. "I don't think you're in a position to be making demands of anyone." She was small, and pretty for a hollow, especially in the form-fitting white outfit she was wearing. In other circumstances, Renji might have made time to ogle her assets, which would've given Matsumoto's a run for their money. Now though, he was more concerned with the tilt of her chin that just about screamed bloody-minded.

Fine, then he'd use that against her. Forcing himself to relax, Renji propped his bare blade on his shoulder and, keeping it casual, sauntered forwards a couple of steps. "If you wanted him dead, you'd have slit his throat already," he told her, sticking close to the wall since he wanted all eyes on him, not Rukia or Byakuya. "That means you want him alive. Me too, at a guess, and that means I got something on my side to negotiate with."

Reaching the corner, Renji paused and risked a quick glance at Byakuya. The arrancar's friend had its fingers tangled deep in silky black hair, yanking Byakuya's head back as it pressed a sword to his throat, and now Renji was over this side of the room, he could finally see the damage the glass had done to Byakuya's face and neck. It didn't look good. That was a crap load of blood, especially around his eyes.

But Renji couldn't think about that, not right now.

Dragging his gaze away, he focused on the male hollow holding the sword. Its spiky dark hair stood straight up, and thick winged eyebrows pulled its expression into an evil looking frown. The lower part of its face, from just below the eyes, was covered by its mask, and its clothing was pure white like the female's, except where it was spattered with Byakuya's blood. Beyond that, it was unremarkable, unless it had some huge reiatsu Renji couldn't sense. It wasn't even that big. If Byakuya wasn't kneeling, he'd be taller than the hollow, easy.

Underling, Renji decided, looking at its body language. An arse-licker who'd jump when the female gave the order. She was the one he had to worry about.

Cocking his head in the most insubordinate way he could manage, Renji met the female arrancar's gaze and held it while he purred, "So, sweetheart, I guess you and me get to have a nice cosy chat."

The female arrancar narrowed her eyes in annoyance, all of her attention on Renji. The male did the same. Which was how come both of them missed the double-powered flat-handed shō Rukia launched at them from the other side of the room.

It didn't do much more than make the two hollows sway on their feet, but it was enough. Byakuya wrenched free and hit the deck, and the next kidō wasn't anything like as gentle. Even Renji felt the sōkatsui as Rukia let it rip. The floor shuddered and the power of it slammed into the female arrancar, bowling her straight off her feet and out through the balcony doors, taking a goodly portion of the front wall with her.

When the kidō hit the male, he vanished, like he'd never been there at all, and the sword he'd been holding clattered to the floor.

Byakuya was on it in an instant, scrambling across the floor towards Renji the next. Renji caught him by the arm and swung him across the room, round the wall into the darkened kitchen area. Rukia only just managed to throw herself round the corner as well, before the female arrancar screamed back into the apartment and this time she wasn't stopping. The whole front of the apartment disappeared, along with the wall above their heads.

"Move!" Rukia yelled, zanpakutō drawn and turning to face the oncoming storm. "Get out! Now!"

Renji didn't need telling again. Shoving Byakuya and Arisawa before him, he headed for the front door, hearing rather than seeing the clash of blades from behind. Out on the walkway, they met other residents, all terrified and running for the stairs. One of them, a young woman with short dark hair, grabbed Arisawa by the arm, helping him along, which meant Renji could focus on Byakuya. Who, going by the death grip he had on Renji's sleeve, couldn't see a thing.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the building shuddered again, and then everything went quiet.

Byakuya stumbled, his grip tightening. "She's driven it outside," he said, "Further away. The other side of the building, I think- Damn it, I need to be able to see! I'm completely useless like this!" He swiped at his face, hissing as his fingers came away bloody.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," Renji muttered, keeping him moving. The whole sky lit up like fireworks behind them as they ran, the apartment block starting to crumble and burn in the aftermath of the destruction that had been brought down on it. All Renji could hope was that all the people got out alive. Either way, it was only a matter of time before the authorities arrived and Renji wanted to be clear in case one of them could see shinigami.

They got as far as the next building over, before Byakuya suddenly dug his heels in and refused to go any further.

"She can't stop it," he said, turning and staring blindly up at the sky. "She's not powerful enough."

Renji might not be able to sense the reiatsu battle going on, but there was nothing wrong with his eyes, and sure enough, Rukia was getting seven bells knocked out of her. It was painful to watch, and wasn't going to gain them anything except regrets.

"It was her choice," Renji said. "And she did it to give us a chance to get away, so lets take it, eh?"

Byakuya twitched but moved when Renji urged him on again, past other buildings and out towards wooded waste-ground nearby. Most of the other humans had gone the other way, and where Arisawa was, Renji had no idea. He'd lost track of him in the crowded darkness. He should turn back and look for him, but already there were sirens in the distance.

Trees swallowed them, and leafless though they were, Renji couldn't help feeling safer under their cover. Unlike these modern buildings, trees were a known quantity and the lack of humans was reassuring. He gradually slowed their mad dash, giving Byakuya a chance to find his feet properly rather than tripping over every other root, and took the chance to look back towards the fight again. Besides the orange glow from the burning building, the sky behind them appeared ominously dark.

"Is it over?" he asked, keeping his voice down like they could be overheard or something, which was stupid but then again you never knew.

Byakuya had one hand pressed to his temple and he had to be in pain, but his voice was firm as he said, "I don't think so. I can still feel echoes. Though it's very close to the end. She's fought well. Hisana would be very proud."

That sounded a bit too final for Renji's liking. With a curl of his lip, he said, "Don't write her off just yet. She's tougher than she looks." And always had been.

He and Rukia were of an age and he'd run into her more than once growing up. She'd disappeared from the camps before he jumped the wire, snapped up by the 13th maybe as a favour to her sister, Renji didn't know. But Rukia had left a lasting impression on him, and not just because she looked like Hisana. She was tough and feisty, and didn't take any shit that anyone handed out. So no, Renji wasn't about to give up on her, no more than he would anyone who'd survived Rukongai.

They kept going, stumbling through undergrowth, Byakuya's steps getting progressively slower and less confident. They were going to have to stop, Renji realised, and he was going to have to take a look at Byakuya's injuries. His eyes, with all that blood and damage.

Shuddering, he pushed through some lower growing branches, holding them aside as he helped Byakuya through.

"Renji?" Byakuya said faintly.

"Yeah, I know," Renji replied, taking his hand again. Damn it, why did it always have to be eyes?

He stopped, guiding Byakuya so his back was to a largish tree, and took a deep breath before looking. There was too little light to see much, thank crap, because what he could see was bad enough. From the looks of it, Byakuya's shihakushō had done a good job protecting his body, but above that almost every inch of skin was streaked with blood and glinted with tiny glass shards driven in deep by the blast. And his eyes…

Renji swallowed thickly and looked away from bloodied pits. "Yeah, we need to get this covered," he said, trying his best to keep anything like panic out of his voice. "Bandages would be good, but I guess lacking them, we're gonna have to fall back on clothes. Good job we've got two sets, eh?"

Byakuya didn't react, so Renji bit his lip and got busy.

Since his own shihakushō didn't have sleeves, and Byakuya's clothing was the rancid set they'd been sharing between them for weeks and thus not exactly hygienic enough to wrap around open wounds, there was only one solution. Without a moment's hesitation, Renji tugged his own shirts off. His back could probably use the air anyway, and if he left them on, he'd only end up sticking to them since he was bleeding again.

The kosode he wrapped round Byakuya's shoulders, working on the principle that it might help him not go into shock, and then he attacked the shitagi with his sword. Large parts of it were spotted with blood, but he managed to salvage enough of the cleaner cloth to create a decent length of bandage and two thick pads.

Finally done, he stood up, the pads ready, the bandage draped over his arm, and reached for Byakuya saying, "Give me your hands, taichō. I need you hold these over your eyes while I put the bandage on."

Byakuya took the pads without demur and raised them to his face, the only indication that anything was wrong the utter rigidity of his shoulders and neck. Once the pads were in position, Renji darted forwards and lay the bandage over them as gently as he could. Even so, Byakuya flinched, and Renji had to force himself to keep going.

"I'll be as quick as I can," he said, and then kept up the inane chatter as he worked. He wasn't even sure what he was saying half the time, but he needed to fill the air with something that wasn't silence, or he was going to flip. He hated hurting people he loved, even if it was so that they could heal.

Byakuya was shaking by the time Renji tucked the end of the bandage in, and several of the gashes on his face had started bleeding again. Renji tried dabbing at them with what was left of his shirt, but stopped when a small pained cry escaped Byakuya's lips.

"Damn it, this isn't enough," Renji cursed under his breath. "You need a healer." And quickly, because whatever magic Byakuya had been using to keep himself moving was starting to wear off.

"Back towards the houses," Byakuya said, and it took Renji a moment to realise that he had to be talking about Arisawa. Of course, Byakuya would be able to sense the old man's reiatsu.

"Heh, I should have known you wouldn't let me down, taichō," he said, tucking his arm around Byakuya and starting them off walking again. Even if there were humans back there who could see them, it had to be better than Byakuya collapsing out here with only Renji to look after him.

The bandage seemed to have helped. Byakuya was steadier on his feet and able to give Renji enough directions to keep them on track. Thus, when a small building loomed up out of the darkness several minutes later, Renji guided them towards it, or more specifically, the dim bulkhead light close to one end.

As they drew close, a small figure pushed off the wall and Renji let out a delighted greeting. "Sensei! You are here. Thank crap."

"I've been waiting for you two to turn up," Arisawa replied, tottering towards them. He had a bright yellow jacket that wasn't his own tucked around his shoulders and the door of the building behind him had been forced open. "Now, come on. Bring him over here and let me look at his face."

He'd noticed Byakuya was injured. Of course he had, he was a doctor.

Biting his lip, Renji tugged Byakuya forwards, using tense shoulders to position him against the wall so what little light there was fell on his face. It was easier to look at now his eyes were covered.

"Ah, you've bandaged it. Good," Arisawa said, grasping Byakuya's chin and turning his head gently this way and that. "You can't be too careful with injuries like these."

The bandage was already bloody in places and, as Renji watched, some of the cuts on Byakuya's cheeks gaped like little mouths. They were going to need stitches. And they'd scar.

Some part of Renji crowed gleefully at the thought that he wasn't the only one who was going to end up with a record of this screw-up inscribed in his skin, but he squashed the thought down as unworthy. It was like Byakuya had said; they were soldiers, scars came with the job.

"Could you see anything at all afterwards?" Arisawa asked after a moment, apparently satisfied with his inspection of the other damage and ready to move on.

"No," Byakuya replied, hardly flinching when Arisawa reached up and gently lifted one edge of the bandage. It was too firmly wrapped for him to get far.

Arisawa let go of Byakuya with an annoyed huff and his heels hit the ground. "Well, there's a lot of glass in the wounds but he's still on his feet, which is good. I can't be more accurate than that without a decent light-"

A glowing blue-white globe immediately flickered to life in Byakuya's out-stretched palm.

"No!" Renji yelped, lunging forwards at the exact same moment as Arisawa, both of them with the same thing in mind.

As all their hands collided, the kidō flared and went out. Renji folded Byakuya's fingers into his own and tugged him close as he held his breath, gazing up at the sky and waiting for all hell to descend on them. Long seconds ticked by with nothing happening, except Byakuya's head slowly coming to rest on Renji's shoulder.

Finally, when it looked like they'd got away with it, Renji dipped down and murmured into Byakuya's ear, "What you do that for, eh, Byakuya? A light like that could've told her right where we were."

Rather than speak, Byakuya freed one hand and pressed it to Renji's chest. It was trembling, and so was the rest of him. And there was Renji's answer. Byakuya hadn't been thinking at all. Suddenly, frighteningly, Byakuya felt small and frail and mortal in Renji's arms.

"Come on," Renji said, adjusting his grip so he was taking more of Byakuya's weight. "Let's get you out of here."

As they turned to leave, the female arrancar stepped out of the undergrowth. Aside from a couple of aesthetically pleasing tears in her dress, she looked perfectly fine considering she'd just been in a fight. She also had two swords through her belt.

Renji cursed under his breath. He hadn't realised Byakuya had dropped the one he'd been holding. Maybe if he had, he'd have realised just how badly off Byakuya was, and they wouldn't have ended up back in this mess. Byakuya was right, Renji needed to stop thinking of him as taichō and start pulling his weight.

Shoving Byakuya behind him, Renji drew his own sword and said, just loud enough to be heard by the men behind him, "Sensei, can you get Byakuya away from here?"

"If you can keep her busy for long enough, I can," Arisawa replied, at the same moment as Byakuya snapped out an aggrieved, "No."

Not totally out of it then. That was good. "This ain't up for discussion," Renji told him. "If you can't see, you can't fight, so-"

The byakurai screamed past him, almost taking his head off on its way to the arrancar. It hit her dead on, or would have if she hadn't thrown up a shield at the last possible second. Orange and triangular shaped, it didn't behave like any bakudō Renji had ever seen. Shields, by their very definition, blocked and deflected things, but there was no deflection from this one. The kidō hit it and vanished, like it had never been cast in the first place.

"What the fuck?" Renji muttered, backing up a few steps. Bad enough he was going to be facing a hollow in his current sealed state without it turning out to have freaky powers too.

"What happened?" Byakuya demanded.

Renji never got a chance to answer. The female arrancar was on them. No, on Byakuya. She went straight through Renji, faster than he could track, and by the time he spun to follow, Arisawa was already several feet away in a heap on the ground and Byakuya was pinned to the side of the building, trapped under that same orange shield.

Not stopping to check on Arisawa - he was moving so that would have to do for now - Renji raised his sword above his head and kiai-ing, put every ounce of strength he possessed into a slash aimed at the arrancar's back. When it connected, it was like he'd hit solid stone. The impact reverberated through Renji's muscles and bones, and only sheer luck stopped the asauchi from flying out of numbed fingers.

Renji stared at it, mouth agape. What the hell? Okay, so he was sealed, but that hollowfied shinigami had gone down easy enough before. This time, his blade hadn't even marked the arrancar's clothes. How come he was so weak?

Or, was it that she was so strong? Renji's gaze arrowed in on the arrancar, who had a frown of concentration on her face and one hand pressed to the outside of the shield. Inside, Byakuya's hands glowed with kidō, that simply vanished the second it came into contact with the shield.

"I was right!" the arrancar said suddenly. She twirled away from the shield making the narrow bottom of her dress flare slightly and the smile she shot at Renji was just plain happy. "I love it when I'm right." The smile collapsed into a mock sad face. "But I don't think you will." She thrust out her palm and something smacked Renji right in the chest. He flew backwards, still numb fingers losing his grip on his sword as he went, and slammed into the ground beside Arisawa. A shield shimmered into place over them and, even though he knew it was pointless, Renji swung a punch at it. His fist rebounded, ramming his elbow into the ground and he cursed up a blue streak, because just like that, she had all three of them trapped, like crickets in a cage.

Hands clasped in front of her, and bouncing on her toes between the two shields like an excited child, the arrancar gushed, "The thing is, I know the two of you killed him, and I know that bitch I fought," her face darkened briefly, "was the one who told you where he was. But I couldn't work out how come you tasted so much like him. I mean, it doesn't make any sense, right? Reiatsu is reiatsu and everyone's different. But yours," she pointed at Byakuya, "Yours tastes different. You taste like Kurosaki-kun and someone else too."

Eyes widening, she leaned towards Byakuya's shield, literally pressing her nose to the outside. "You know what I think? I think you ate him. Took a big juicy bite and made him yours. And that's not fair, because he was mine first. So you're going to have to give him back. And if you don't, well, I'm just going to have to squish all the juice out of these two until you change your mind."

She spun towards Renji and Arisawa, hand out-stretched and fingers grasping, and suddenly, terrifyingly, Renji was pinned down. And not just that. Something was tightening around him, a constant unrelenting pressure from his head to his toes, like the arrancar was literally squeezing the life out him.

Beside Renji, Arisawa groaned, and crap, the old guy was only human. He wouldn't be able to take this kind of damage.

It was getting difficult to breathe, but Renji had to give it a go. He couldn't just lie here and do nothing. Using the last of the air in his lungs, he tried to call out, to explain. All that came out was a creaking wheeze, but it must have been enough because Byakuya started yelling, "Stop! Whatever you're doing, this is pointless. I can't do what you want!"

"Can't or won't," the arrancar replied, upping the pressure, and this time the noise Arisawa made was pained. Renji's vision began to blur, darkening at the edges as he fought to inhale, his lungs screaming, his diaphragm twitching as his throat clicked on nothing.

"I can't! I don't know how! Now stop, please, before you kill them!" The desperate edge to Byakuya's voice was familiar. It haunted Renji's nightmares alongside Yamada Seinosuke's zanpakutō.

His protests worked. The pressure suddenly let up and Renji curled in on himself, whooping in a huge gulp of air. Beside him, Arisawa rolled onto his side, coughing, his ribs heaving. Renji reached out with tingling fingers and patted his arm, and the old man waved his hand, the message clear; leave him alone, he'd be okay.

"You don't know how?" the arrancar said, "Well then, I'll just have to get rid of it myself."

The scream of pain from Byakuya sent Renji into over-drive, slamming his fists against the inside of the shield still covering them until he could feel them bruising. "Stop! Stop! What the fuck are you doing to him? Stop!"

He might as well have been singing a lullaby for all the notice the arrancar took of him. She stood over Byakuya, both hands out-stretched towards the shield that seemed to throb and hum. Beneath it, Byakuya writhed, his screams dying away to sobs and whimpers.

"She's doing something to his power," Arisawa husked. "It's going away."

"His reiatsu?" Renji shot a querying glance at Arisawa before fixing his gaze back on Byakuya. "If she drains that, she'll kill him."

Arisawa frowned. "I don't think she's-" he began, just as the little shed next to them exploded in a flash of blue and yellow and white. The air fizzed, reverberating with a crackling humming whine and every hair on Renji's body stood on end. Even beneath the shield, Renji ducked, but it didn't stop him hearing the bang or the blood-curdling scream that pierced the night. A heartbeat later the shields were gone, and so was the arrancar.

Ignoring the pain in his back and chest, Renji scrambled over to Byakuya, grabbing him and dragging him away from the burning building, scooping up his sword as went. Someone else had Arisawa, someone dressed from head to toe in some kind of yellow protective clothing, including a hat/mask thing that stuck out at right angles from her head. It was the woman from earlier, though Renji hadn't a clue why she'd come back.

All four of them staggered down the narrow pathway leading away from the sparking, popping building. Byakuya was on his feet but not much more than that, and going by the way Arisawa was moving, he wasn't much better off. Whatever that explosion had been, it had better have taken the arrancar out. If she came at them again, they were dead meat.

As if summoned by Renji's stupid brain, the arrancar arrowed out of the sky and slammed into the ground in front of them. This time she hadn't walked away unscathed. Burns, like a spill of crimson ink covered one side of her body. Her hair was half gone, the rest a frizzled scorched halo, and she looked mad enough to spit bricks.

"Fuck," Renji cursed, backing up as she drew a sword. Byakuya stumbled and clung to him, obviously too weak to support himself alone. Damn the freaking arrancar to hell and back. Whatever happened, before Renji could fight, he'd have to pass Byakuya off to the woman first.

Except, it was the woman who passed Arisawa off onto him. "Here," she said, tucking the old man under Renji's free arm without so much as a by-your-leave. "Get them both out of here while I deal with her."

"Deal?" Renji asked, more than a bit gob-smacked. Wasn't the woman human? How the hell did she intend to deal with an arrancar?

As Renji stood there like a dope, she took a stance; half-turned, fists held ready as though she was going to use some form of hakuda; but instead of fighting, she yanked off the hat, tossed it to the ground and called out, "If you want them, Orihime, you're going to have to come through me."

The expression on the arrancar's face changed in the blink of eye. A happy smile curled her lips and her eyes lit up. Added to the burns and the way she was back-lit by the fire, it made her look terrifying. "Tatsuki?" she said. "I've been looking for you. Where did you go?"

"Somewhere away from you," the woman, Tatsuki, muttered under her breath. Louder, she called out, "I had to go away for a while. A tournament."

"Wow, it must have been a super-important one. You've been gone for ages."

"And yet still not long enough." Renji was starting to get the hang of this double edged conversation, so he wasn't surprised when Tatsuki - And where had he heard that name before? - raised her voice to add, "Yeah, sorry about that. It was abroad and everything."

"An international tournament! Wow, that's brilliant. Did you win? I bet you were great. You're always so great." The arrancar was back in little girl mode, and Renji didn't trust it for a second.

As it bounced down the path towards them, he shuffled everyone backwards. His feet scuffed on the path. Tatsuki shot him a filthy look over her shoulder and jerked her head towards the narrow pathway leading through the undergrowth. "Shift it! Car's that way."

Renji decided he didn't need to be told again. The more space between him and that arrancar the happier he was going to be, and Tatsuki seemed to think she could deal with it. So far it was working, and if she'd been behind the explosion in the shed, she might be right. It had done more damage than Renji had managed.

He manoeuvred Arisawa and Byakuya down the path, neither of them up to much more than putting one foot in front of the other. As he went, he heard the arrancar ask, "Where are they going?"

"Just to find somewhere to sit down. Grandpa can't stand for long periods, not anymore."

Grandpa? That meant Tatsuki was Arisawa's grand-daughter. Which explained a hell of a lot actually, like how come she was prepared to stand between the old man and a lethal monster.

Undergrowth quickly gave way to pavement, and there, pulled up on the kerb, was a small pink car with all its lights on, its doors wide open and the engine running. Apparently Tatsuki had been planning for a quick getaway. Bright as well as strong. Renji liked her.

The sight of his grand-daughter's vehicle jogged something loose for Arisawa senior. He shoved gnarled fingers into Renji's ribs and turned back towards the trees, his face crumpling into an agonised frown. "She's still in there, with that thing. We've got to go back for her."

"I don't think so, ojii-san," Renji said, catching hold of him again before he could stagger off into more trouble. "Or not you anyway." He was going back, no question. If he could buy Tatsuki time to get clear, she could make sure the others escaped in the car. It wasn't like he could drive them anywhere.

Under his other arm, Byakuya finally stirred, though only enough to reach out for the car door. His hand where he gripped it was shaking and when he shifted his weight, it suddenly became obvious just how much of it Renji had been bearing. "Go," Byakuya murmured. "Save her and come back safe."

A little pulse of joy surged through Renji at Byakuya's words. Despite all his fuck-ups this evening, Byakuya still believed in him. "I promise," he said and pressed his lips against Byakuya's hair. He smelt of smoke and metal and blood, but he was warm and he was alive.

Not stopping to look back, Renji turned and headed for the woods, drawing his asauchi as he ran.

He didn't have to go far before he heard voices. "I don't like this. You're going with them. Tatsuki-chan, don't leave me. Kurosaki-kun already left, if you go as well, I'll be all alone!"

The slightly hysterical edge to the arrancar's voice spurred Renji faster, picking his steps carefully to keep his approach silent. There weren't many advantages to not having any reiryoku. Being undetectable was one of them, so it made sense to exploit it.

"I won't leave you, Orihime," Tatsuki was saying.

"Does that mean you're going to come and join me? We'd be so much stronger together than apart."

"Soon. I made a promise, didn't I?"

And crap, that was a disaster in the making. Did Tatsuki have a clue what the arrancar was asking for? It wouldn't just kill her, afterwards it'd consume her soul, adding her power to its own.

Renji ducked off the path and crept closer. Whatever had gone down between the two of them before, Renji didn't think the arrancar was going to let Tatsuki walk away this time. Which meant that if Tatsuki was going to escape, Renji was going to have to provide a distraction. Preferably one he might survive.

Kidō would have been useful, but that was a no go. Zabimaru's long reach would have been perfect, but again that was impossible.

Renji's fist clenched tighter on the asauchi at the thought, and a distant roar rattled through his mind once again. He shook his head and pressed fingers to his temple. Sealed or not, that was Zabimaru, he was sure of it, and once they were safe, he was damn well sitting down and taking the time to find out what the hell was going on.

But none of that helped him right now. He had Tatsuki in full retreat, heading back down the path a pace at a time, and though she was bright enough to keep some distance between herself and the arrancar, sooner or later, she was going to lead it straight to the car.

Turning and running wasn't an option either, not without a head start. What they needed was another one of those explosions, but failing that, a stupid baboon running at full speed and yelling would have to do.

Renji sucked in a deep breath and, silently apologising to Byakuya for breaking his promise, broke into a flat-out sprint heading for the arrancar.

Just as he burst, roaring, from the undergrowth, someone close-by yelled, "Tsugi no mai! Hakuren!" and a sheet of pure white ice flashed across the path in front of him, engulfing the arrancar. Rukia was right on its heels, swooping in and grabbing Tatsuki then Renji, and dragging both of them with her as she shunpo'd back down the path.

They reached the car in less than a heartbeat. Arisawa and Byakuya were already inside, the old man behind the wheel. Renji guessed that was okay, and anyway he didn't have time to argue. He flung himself in the back after Tatsuki and felt Rukia scramble in as well, and then they were off, the little car roaring down the road.

They'd made it. And there was nothing like surviving impossible odds to give a guy a head rush. Laughter bubbled in Renji's throat, even as all his new aches and pains rushed to introduce themselves. He dragged himself upright on the seat, heart still thundering in his chest, and the elation finally escaped in a whoop of, "Yes! We fucking did it!"

As he spoke, Arisawa threw the car round a corner onto a wider, busier road. Renji lurched sideways, earning himself an annoyed grunt and an elbow in the ribs from Tatsuki. It was enough to take some of the wind out of his sails. With an apologetic head nod, he shifted to give her enough space to breathe, even though it meant now he loomed over Rukia in the small space.

She was wrestling with her hakama which were trapped in the car door. Renji grinned down at her. "That was truly awesome timing."

Giving up on the hakama, she smiled beatifically up at him with blood on her teeth and one side of her face already bruising. "But of course. That's because I am awesome and you are not worthy."

"You're right, I'm not. I thought for sure you were dead," he replied, still grinning. It was going to take more than that to flatten his mood. She just rolled her eyes and punched him in the leg. So much like her sister.

A set of traffic lights on the road ahead of them went orange and then red and the car slowed to a stop. Everyone in the back turned to peer out of the rear window as if expecting to see the arrancar bearing down on them.

"Ojii-san," Tatsuki said worriedly, leaning forwards on the back of the driver's seat, "This isn't the way home."

"No, it isn't," Arisawa replied, peering back over his shoulder as he flicked switches, made lights flash, and moved over one lane. "Because I'm going to the hospital, not home."

"Why, is someone hurt? Are you okay?" She sounded genuinely worried and, Renji guessed, not without good reason. Though the old man seemed better at dealing with monsters than people dying on him, which, yeah okay, Renji understood that. Some injuries went too deep for even the best armour.

"I'm fine," Arisawa said. "Byakuya however is not, and I daresay when Renji calms down, he won't be either. The young lady I'm not sure about, but considering the fight she was in earlier, I'd like to check her over."

Rukia flashed raised eyebrows at Renji at that comment. He mouthed 'doctor' at her by way of explanation as Arisawa kept speaking.

"However, that isn't my main reason for going." His gaze flicked to the central mirror, catching Tatsuki's eye. "All of us need to hide, at least for a little while, and thanks to Sōken, Karakura Hospital has exactly what we need."


	18. Been Down So Long, I Ain't Coming Up

Jinzen: the art of communicating with one's zanpakutō. According to Karin, it involved using meditation to enter your inner world, where you could either chat with your zanpakutō spirit or have a knockdown, drag out fight with it, whichever did the trick. 'You should read up on it,' she'd said, handing over a stack of books. 'Cause it sure looked like that was what you were doing the other evening when I found you by the shrine.'

Yasutora had no desire to be a shinigami, but he was locked in Ichigo's bedroom for three days with nothing else to do, so, dutifully, he started reading.

It quickly became apparent that, according to the books, he was a lost cause before he even started, since he was lacking a vital part of the equation, i.e. an asauchi. That was some kind of empty sword capable of housing part of a person's soul, thus turning it into a proper zanpakutō.

Did that mean the bull wasn't anything to do with a zanpakutō, Yasutora wondered? He had no idea but, perhaps if he meditated like they said in the books, he could speak to it again and ask. The lack of sword might make things awkward, but then again, he hadn't had one last time either and that hadn't stopped the bull trying to gore him to death. Plus, after five hours alone in Ichigo's bedroom, he was willing to try anything to fill up some time.

That was when he hit a snag. Historically, meditation wasn't something Yasutora ever needed to do. If he felt stressed, he played guitar or went for a run, so sitting cross-legged on the bed with the backs of his hands resting on his knees, trying to 'speak to the other half of his soul', felt stupid, like he was a kid playing at magic or pretending to be a superhero. Added to which, no matter how hard he tried to clear them, his thoughts kept circling back to Jackie, and how she'd looked that night in the arena when they'd dragged the rubble off her.

At the time he'd been too traumatised to see anything beyond the blood and her death. Now, when he closed his eyes, her face appeared clearly in his mind's eye. Sure there had been a lot of blood, with that kind of injury it was inevitable, but her face hadn't been screwed up in pain. In fact, the lines of tension around her eyes and mouth, the ones that had been there for as long as Yasutora had known her, had been gone. How ironic was it that, skewered by a spar while sheltering Fūra from certain death, Jackie finally looked at peace.

Was it right to mourn someone when they'd died the way they wanted to?

With a quiet grunt, Yasutora rolled to his feet and began pacing, and not just to shift the thoughts from his head. A big part of his problem was that he just wasn't used to sitting around for hours like this, and after the best part of a week cooped up at the 6th, he needed to get out in the fresh air, to run or spar or something. The quarters at the Pits might have been small, but there'd always been twenty-four hour access to exercise space for those who wanted it, and there'd never been any shortage of people who did. It was how you honed your skills and kept yourself alive next time it was your turn in the arena.

And when you were too injured to spar, you trained around the injury or discussed tactics or listened in to other people's conversations to try and piece together a picture of what was going on outside the closeted world they lived in.

Shaking out his hands, Yasutora bounced on his toes for a few seconds, but it didn't stop the disturbing thoughts creeping back.

Had he looked the same way as Jackie when he'd died? Thinking back on it, all he'd cared about at the time was saving Yūichi. Those beer barrels would've squashed the bird and its cage flat, and no way was he going to let that happen. Not after Yūichi had told Yasutora the truth about the hollow and his mom and who Yūichi really was. So yeah, maybe he had looked at peace. Except, he remembered feeling so disappointed that he hadn't managed to do more.

And knowing any of this wasn't going help with meditation, or get him through the next few hours until Sagara-fukutaichō checked in.

What he needed was something to keep his thoughts occupied, like a book.

Yasutora's gaze skipped briefly to the pile beside the bed before darting away again. No, he couldn't deal with any more obscure texts on zanpakutō, and since they were the only books he had, that was a bust.

Damn, where was his guitar when he needed it. He missed it like burning now he had time to and could remember long hours spent picking out tunes and practising correct fingering.

Though maybe the guitar was like a sword, actually having one didn't matter. Maybe all he needed was the idea of the guitar.

Stepping back onto the bed, Yasutora folded down into the same meditative pose, but this time, instead of trying to clear his mind, he imagined his guitar. It wasn't anything special, but there was something reassuring about the weight of it in his hands, like he understood it somehow. Or maybe that it understood him.

Unlike the people around him, the guitar didn't demand that he use words to communicate. Touch was sufficient to bring it to life. The firm press of fingertips against wire and the flick of nail or pick allowed Yasutora to describe worlds in ways that words couldn't hope to emulate.

Head down and shoulders hunched, he began to move his fingers across imaginary strings. First scales, then chords, and finally on to familiar tunes, seeking that place of peace within music and the habitual movement of his body as it coaxed rhythm and tune from pieces of wood and metal.

_Took you long enough,_ a bass voice snorted in his ear.

Yasutora spun away, fists already rising to defend himself. Blood-stained horns slashed through the air at waist level as the bull pawed the ground, midnight flanks heaving, but despite all that, it made no move to charge. If anything, it seemed eager to see him again.

Dropping his guard a little, Yasutora squinted at his surroundings. This wasn't the tunnel. He was back in the sandy, sun-drenched arena where he'd last encountered the bull. Did that make this his inner world then, and the bull his zanpakutō spirit?

The bull shook its head irritably, ears flapping. _Of course I am. What else would I be?_

"My conscience?"

An amused snort greeted that suggestion. _I'm not a cricket and I'm too big to ride on your shoulder. Try again._

Were the books wrong? "I don't have a sword."

The bull turned, presenting its shoulder to Yasutora. It felt like a shrug. _You will, sooner or later, and when you do, we will be ready._

Ready for what? Yasutora was about to ask when the bull rolled its eyes towards him and added, _So long as you know my name._

The one thing that all the books agreed on was that to call out a zanpakutō, a shinigami had to know its name. If the bull was putting that sort of emphasis on what it was called, it pretty much had to be Yasutora's zanpakutō spirit.

But that was impossible. Yasutora wasn't a shinigami. Worse, he didn't want to become one, because shinigami had to serve in the Gotei 13 and, for Yasutora, the Gotei 13 epitomised everything that was wrong in this world of the dead.

Evidence of it had been everywhere in the Pits, in the people like Hachi, who'd lost both wife and baby to the 12th before being maimed and sold on to Iba-neesan. Or Matsuri, who'd not been much more than a child herself when she'd died screaming at the hands of that half-hollowed monster of Hirako's.

And even before all of that, Yasutora had witnessed the cruelty of the Gotei firsthand during the slaughter at the proving grounds. Not one of the shinigami there that day had questioned the morality of slitting people's throats just because they couldn't fight. They'd just gone ahead and done it. Some of them had even seemed to get a buzz out of the killing.

But it wasn't the shinigami themselves, not really. Much as Yasutora wanted to blame them for every terrible thing that went on, they were just individuals, and half the time they were only following orders. It was the system they were a part of, that encouraged them to be the way they were, that was the problem.

In Soul Society, be it in the Pits or amongst the ranks of the Gotei, strength was everything. If you were strong, you had power, but only because you took it from those weaker than you. If you weren't a predator, you were prey. And that philosophy went against everything Yasutora believed in, everything his grandfather had taught him about power and strength. So no, he couldn't do it. He couldn't willingly serve an organisation that held to the idea that people who couldn't fight back were nothing more than trash to be used up and cast aside.

Not even, he realised with a sinking heart, if it meant denying this part of himself.

_Coward!_ the bull bellowed in his head. It charged, hooves thundering across the sand, so fast and so deadly that it caught Yasutora completely flat-footed. He leapt, using reiatsu to boost his height, and hit the arena boards with a thump. A moment later, the bull hit them too, and kept coming, its huge bulk driving it up the sheer wooden structure until its horns were within slashing reach of Yasutora's feet.

With a yell of fear, Yasutora scrambled higher, again using reiatsu to strengthen his arms and legs. Below him, the bull dropped away, and Yasutora hung, with one arm over the top of the boards, breathing hard and wondering what the hell he'd done to deserve that.

_Coward!_ the bull cried again, and this time when it hit the boards, it didn't try to climb. Head down, it used its full power to drive into them, sending Yasutora scrabbling for a better grip as everything rattled and slammed until even his bones felt like they were coming loose.

_If that's really the way you feel, you should've bled out on the proving grounds._

No, he shouldn't. Because if he'd bled out there, then Jackie would have died there too. When he'd made his stand, he'd fought for her as much as for himself.

_You fought for her with your whole strength and yet you refuse to do the same for others. Coward!_

Boom! The bull hit the boards once again. Yasutora's grip slipped, his mind churning through the logic of what the bull had said. He hadn't meant that, had he? Not wanting to be a shinigami and join the Gotei 13 wasn't the same thing as not wanting to fight with everything he had when people needed help.

_Have you learnt nothing, boy! I am you! To deny me is to deny your strength!_

Again the bull hit the boards, and this time when his fingers lost their grip, there was no getting it back. Yasutora slid, the toes of his boots skidding down splintered wood as, below him, the bull stamped, its head lowered, horns gouging channels in the boards.

His strength. Half of his soul.

When abuelo had agreed to teach him how to box, Yasutora had embraced the training with everything he had, because it would make him stronger. But still, even with that strength, he'd never again lifted a finger against someone weaker than himself.

Was a zanpakutō any different?

If he embraced that strength in defence of others, in the same way as he'd agreed to fight for Ichigo, as he had fought for Jackie, then wasn't that still remaining true to his heart?

He dropped, turning as he did so, and landed in a half sprawl on the sands, his back against the arena boards. The bull's horns hit the wood either side of his head, and its great muzzle thrust into his chest.

_We are greater together than you could ever be alone,_ it said, its breath wuffling against Yasutora's belly. _But do not mistake strength for power. That is something that must be gained over time._

Or borrowed from someone else.

Ichigo might be Gotei, but he was also a captain, and a noble. Unlike Yasutora, he had the power to challenge the unacceptable face of Seireitei, and knowing Ichigo, that was exactly what he'd do once he was secure in his position.

As his friend, and as his bodyguard, Yasutora would be behind him, supporting him all the way. With everything that he had. Including his zanpakutō.

_Finally_, the bull said, _and now you must leave._

"I only just arrived."

_A storm is rising and little sister is on her way. I'll be here when you need me. Go._

Yasutora jerked upright, gasping, as someone thumped on the bedroom door yelling Ichigo's name. "Shiba-sama! Please come quickly, my lord, you are needed!" He was back in the real world.

A glance at the brass clock on the tansu told him he'd been 'gone' for about an hour, which seemed impossible, but who knew. He scrambled up, trod swiftly to the door and cracked it open. Light from the room spilt out into the dark, tightly shuttered walkway.

Unshō knelt outside. His head was down as if he was prepared to wait all night for a reply, but his stocky frame vibrated with urgency. When he heard the door pull back, he glanced up and husked, "Apologies, Sado-san. The guard demanded Shiba-sama was summoned and I didn't know what else to do."

So, Unshō had worked out that Ichigo wasn't here. Yasutora wasn't surprised. It was always unlikely that they'd be able to keep this a secret from the family servants, but when Shin had brought that up as a potential security problem, Ichigo had dismissed his concerns. Typically, Ichigo had absolute faith in Koji's loyalty, and that extended to his family now that Koji himself was dead. He'd only opted not to let them in on the plot from the outset for their own safety.

"What's going on?" Yasutora asked, pulling the door back further.

"I'm not sure. I think, maybe, there's some kind of trouble at the 13th."

Ukitake? If it was him, they'd need more than just ceremonial bodyguards. "Sagara-fukutaichō?"

"Take's fetching her now." Unshō ducked his head. "Sado-san, I need to tell the guards something. I was only just able to stop them coming to find his lordship themselves. If Shiba-sama doesn't appear soon-"

"They'll just have to suck it up and follow my orders," Karin said as she came round the corner. Despite still being dressed in layers and layers of silk, the decorous princess act was gone. Karin's stride had lengthened to a soldier's gait and her sword was stuck through her obi. Halting beside Unshō, she told him, "Go and tell them Shiba-sama is monitoring the situation from inside, and when Hisana arrives, ask her to put the household guard into lock-down so none of them can start spreading rumours."

Once Unshō had bowed and hurried away, Karin turned to Yasutora with a huff, arms folded across her chest. "One of the new guys saw lightning at the 13th and panicked, and now they're all out there running around like headless chickens, the wimps." Her eyes took on a distant look, one hand drifting to the hilt of her sword. "Though I guess I don't blame them really. Ukitake-taichō's pretty scary when he has one of his turns." The hand tightened and her gaze snapped back into focus. "Anyway, better to be safe than sorry, I thought I'd go take a look myself."

So it was Ukitake. Yasutora cast his thoughts to the other end of the house, from where the 13th was clearly visible. "Are all the shutters closed?" he asked.

"Think so. Why?" As Karin was answering, Yasutora dodged back into the bedroom and grabbed the haori he'd been wearing earlier. By the time he got back out into the corridor and was slipping on his shoes, Karin had cottoned on. "Good idea. Even if that end is closed up, you can open it enough to watch. I'll meet you there."

They separated, Karin cutting back through the house and Yasutora hurrying along the chill external walkway, his route lit only by the dim glow of lamplight through each screen door.

A few metres from the far end of the house, several voices became audible from outside. One was definitely Karin's and another sounded like Take, but it was impossible to know who else might be out there and Yasutora didn't want to risk being spotted outside the bedroom by someone not in on the plan. They were bound to ask where Ichigo was and right now Yasutora didn't have a good answer.

Carefully, he unlatched the heavy shutter and eased it aside just enough to peer through the crack. The wooden runners let out a loud creak, thankfully at the exact same moment as thunder rumbled across the sky.

A storm? Yasutora lifted his eyes skyward. That was what the bull had said, wasn't it. 'A storm is rising and little sister is on her way.' Presumably the sister was Karin, which made sense. Whatever that was brewing over the 13th, on the other hand, made no sense at all.

Yasutora was no weather expert, but he was pretty sure natural storms didn't consist of a single swirling mass forming in an entirely clear sky. The cloud above the 13th loured, full of deep greys and sick yellow-whites. Flashes of lightning crawled across its surface like the legs of a demented dancing spider while trailing edges of vapour dragged downward, almost brushing the water of the lake around Ukitake's small house that seemed to be floating on the pitch-black water.

As Karin's voice came from close by, Yasutora dragged his attention away from the developing maelstrom and squinted at the three figures standing just by the corner of the tearoom, all staring out towards the 13th through something that could be binoculars, though they seemed to be wearing them not holding them. "Kira will turn up," Karin was saying. "He has to. He's the only one who can get close enough to administer the sedative."

"And if he doesn't?" That was definitely Take. Yasutora recognised the silhouette.

The third speaker was Hisana. Presumably the taller of the two that weren't Take. "Then the officers will take charge of delaying their captain while the rest of the division evacuate."

To Yasutora, she sounded her usual cool and controlled self, but Karin at least must have picked up something more. "You don't have to worry. I'm sure Rukia'll be fine."

"Sure, so long as Ukitake-taichō doesn't completely flip," Take said.

"Not helping!"

"Sorry, Kurosaki-goseki."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Now he knew who was there, Yasutora would have joined them, but his attention was dragged back to the storm. Was it his imagination or was the mass of cloud starting to rotate? If this was Ukitake having a 'turn', it looked exponentially worse than the one he, Rukia, and Karin had run afoul of.

Suddenly Hisana said, "I told them this was going to happen, but nobody listened. They should have made him retire years ago before things got so dangerous." Her voice was clipped and short. Scared, Yasutora realised.

"Kira will turn up," Karin reassured her. "He wouldn't let this get out of-"

A crack of thunder split the night just as sheet lightning bleached the world to a blinding white. Karin screamed and, as he shoved the shutter back all the way and shot towards them, the wind suddenly rose and large drops of rain began to fall. The night was no longer cloudless. Now an seething mass of cloud roiled angrily across the sky.

Everyone pulled back under the eaves of the house, as down on the distant lake, a tiny figure surrounded by a nimbus of glowing blue light appeared to hover above the sinking ruins of the small hut.

Ukitake-taichō. It had to be.

Yasutora watched as the captain strode across the water, lightning crackling out from beneath each step. When he hit land, a line of shinigami surged to meet him. They didn't last long, succumbing in rapid succession to an attack that, though it was difficult to see details from this distance, looked like the captain simply smothered them with his reiatsu and then vapourised them where they lay.

"Konso," Take muttered, and Yasutora saw her shudder.

Silently, their little group watched as, once he'd finished with those victims, Ukitake began moving again, this time towards the main buildings.

"Kira's not coming is he?" Karin whispered hoarsely after a couple of moments. "Gods, we've got to do something. We can't just stand here and watch him slaughter his whole division."

"He won't. The evacuation's in progress, look." Hisana pointed, and Yasutora realised the flickers of light trailing across the grounds were lines of kidō lights acting as beacons for the retreating flood of shinigami.

Another line of officers stepped up between the evacuee's and Ukitake. This time, rather than get close to the advancing captain, the shinigami raised a kidō barrier across his path, not waiting even a moment before pulling back several yards and raising another and yet another. Behind them, the organised withdrawal continued.

For a while it really looked as if the plan would work, until some kind of fight broke out by one of the exit points. Yasutora tried to track what was happening. Without binoculars the others were using it was next to impossible, but as far as he could tell, the shinigami trying to get out of the grounds were running into others trying to get back in again. Which made no sense. Why would anyone want to get back _in_ to the 13th?

"What the hell?" Take muttered. Unlike Hisana and Karin, who were focused on the events inside the grounds, Take had her binoculars focused on one of the broad avenues that ran alongside. Yasutora squinted towards it, but all he could see were figures in the darkness, though it looked like there were more shinigami around than there should be.

Suddenly, Take cursed, "Fuck! It's the 12th," followed by a stream of curses, as from down below came a deep swelling burst of reiatsu.

In its wake, a massive shape appeared, looming over the 13th's walls. For a second Yasutora thought it was a hollow, because nothing else could be that ugly. It was taller than a house and five times as long, with a head like a giant and body that looked more like a snake or caterpillar. Then it wailed with the voice of a dying baby, and every hair on Yasutora's body stood on end.

"What is it?" he asked, proud that the question came out as steady as it did.

"Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō," Take said flatly, leaving it up to Hisana to explain, "Kurotsuchi-taichō's bankai."

From beside them came the sound of Karin being noisily sick. Yasutora reached out for her but she just flapped at him, waving her binoculars in his direction. Yasutora took them and slipped them over his head, and immediately wished he hadn't because they didn't work like normal binoculars. They also increased the brightness and contrast so now he could see the chaos around the 13th in grotesque detail.

Several gangs of masked shinigami moved through the surrounding streets armed with weapons that looked like flame throwers spewing a thick yellow gas. Evacuees fled before them, heading the only way they could, back into the 13th. But most weren't fast enough. Whole groups of them fell, overcome by the fumes, and were left on the road as the gangs advanced over the top of them.

But not for long. Behind the gas-wielders stalked a surreal figure with a painted face, dressed in a white haori; the captain, Kurotsuchi, with his bankai monster hard on his heels. And around and over it, darted more masked shinigami, these with white coats over their shihakushō. They scooped up the downed evacuees and, in ones and twos, tossed the inert bodies up into the huge baskets hanging from the monster's back.

Yasutora took a single look at the baskets, and almost joined Karin. People weren't designed to be stacked like that, or to bend like that, or take that kind of weight on top of them.

Not able to watch, he swung his gaze back towards the 13th and found a different slaughter. With the exits blocked and the 12th hunting the surrounding streets, the organised retreat had become a terrified scattering inside the division grounds, with shinigami desperately fleeing their own captain, who like some kind of benignly smiling terminator, just kept on coming.

One of the shinigami in the firing line was the red-haired guard Karin had bullied her way past the other night. As Yasutora watched, she was caught in the suffocating weight of Ukitake's reiatsu and stumbled to her knees. The man himself swept towards her a moment later, a sad smile on his face and lips moving as he reached for her, taking her face gently in hand and lifting one of his twin zanpakutō.

Yasutora expected a killing blow, but instead Ukitake turned his sword, pressing the hilt to the guard's forehead, just like Yasutora remembered the shinigami in Karakura doing to him. It sent him on to Soul Society. The effect on the guard was very different. Her hands flew up to grasp the blade and she screamed, her eyes flying open as her body throbbed, bulged, deforming like an inflating balloon. Blood poured from her eyes, ears and mouth, and eventually, finally, she exploded.

Yanking the binocular goggles from his head, Yasutora crouched down and took several deep breaths. He'd thought he'd seen everything terrible during his time in the Pits. He'd been wrong. "Someone needs to stop them," he said thickly. People were dying in there, and sure they were shinigami but no one, not even them, deserved to have this happen.

"Like who?" Take replied, tugging her goggles up and giving him an assessing look. "No one's breaking any laws."

Yasutora looked up, searching her face for some clue that she was lying, because if that was true, how did ordinary people function in this place?

His confusion must have been obvious. Take shrugged and explained, "Anyone on the streets are fair game and always have been. No alarms have gone off, which means Kurotsuchi and his people are being careful not to enter the 13th proper. That means no mutual protection clauses have kicked in and anyway, it's illegal for captains to fight each other unless it's in the challenge arena. So the rest of the captains're out of the picture, and no lieutenant's going to risk going head to head with Kurotsuchi when he's already in bankai with half his squad around him."

"Ukitake?" Yasutora asked, because with him gone then at least the 13th could get off the streets.

A frown skated across Take's face and her gaze flicked tellingly back towards the 13th. "Kira should be there, and if not him, I'm surprised Kyōraku-taichō hasn't turned up yet. But apart from that, it's Ukitake's division. If he decides to kill them all, it's his call."

"But we've got to do something," Karin said hoarsely. "There's people…"

Yasutora glanced up as Karin's words suddenly cut off. She was pale in the cold air and had stopped hurling. Now she was staring straight at Hisana, eyes wide and shocky.

"The back," Hisana replied, indicating the rear of the 13th's grounds, the point where they came closest to the Shiba's gardens. "We can set up a safe zone, funnel them out of there and into here. The road there's too narrow to deploy Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō without damaging the walls, and even Kurotsuchi isn't stupid enough to think he can get away with raiding a True First's estate without repercussions."

This time Yasutora could hear the tension in her voice. Of course. He'd forgotten. Hisana's sister was in there somewhere, trapped between that thing and a captain gone murderously out of control.

Take, on the other hand, sounded completely calm when she said, "That won't be enough. Someone's going to have to go in there and direct them out."

"I know," Hisana replied, the implication that she was the name in the frame loud and clear in the way she spoke.

"Not you," Take shot straight back. "Even if Ukitake's finally lost it, you're a lieutenant. Entering another division's grounds without permission is tantamount to doing a run on their captain. You know what happened to Abarai-san."

"That means you can't go either, Take," Karin put in. "You already got busted once for trespass. If someone of your rank gets caught again for the same crime, it's an automatic dismissal, and you know it."

"I'm not sending anyone who's not a seated officer," Hisana said. "That'd be murder."

"You don't have to," Karin replied, already tugging her sword out of her obi and yanking at the silk. "Because I'm going."

Hisana dragged her goggles off. "No! Your brother-!" she began.

"Wouldn't want us to stand around doing nothing, any more than you do," Karin interrupted, dropping her obi on the ground and starting on the kimono. "And anyway, I'm not going alone. Yasutora?"

The idea of going down there terrified him, but he couldn't stand aside and let people get slaughtered either. "Sure."

Karin was already speaking again as she wrestled off layer after layer. "If anyone pulls me up for being in there, I can play the spoilt noble card, tell them I was worried about my friend. Yasutora's a Shiba bodyguard, so he gets an automatic pass."

Pink and deep green silk slithered to the ground leaving Karin in the shihakushō she must have been wearing underneath. Clever. She slid her sword back into her belt and said, "You guys organise this end. Take, we're going to need kidō experts and medics and people to keep an eye on things-"

"I know what to do," Take pointed out. She glanced at Hisana, who was chewing her lip like she wished there was some alternative to sending her captain's little sister into the mouth of hell. "Fukutaichō?"

Hisana's gaze flickered. "How will you get in?" she asked Karin.

Karin shrugged. "The sewers. It's a straight run from the 6th."

A thoughtful pause, then, "Use the exit that comes out by the second barrack block. You know how to disable the alarms?"

Karin's cheeks darkened. "Yeah, I know."

Hearing that, Hisana's eyes cleared and she nodded sharply at Take. "Go," she said. "Round up what you need. Say the orders came from the captain."

Take dipped a shallow bow and shot off into the stormy night.

Once she'd gone, the rest of them dashed towards the back of the house. "I'll handle this end," Hisana said as they ran, "The guards will listen to me if I tell them to let people in." As they reached the slight shelter of the corner, she slowed down, "Karin-"

"I'll find Rukia, I promise," Karin said, striding past her.

Hisana grabbed her arm and both of them stopped in their tracks. For a brief second, the normally cool Hisana looked totally flustered, "No, I mean yes, thank you. But that's not what I was going to say." Her grip slid down to Karin's hand. "Be careful in there. If anything happened to you, I don't know what it would do to your brother. After everyone else he's lost recently-"

"It'll be fine." Karin patted her hand and pushed on past her. "No way am I going anywhere near those creeps from the 12th if I can help it."

Hisana hung back for a moment before jogging after them. "Just see that you don't," she said as she caught up, her expression much less worried. As she passed Yasutora, her gaze swept him from top to toe as though checking his suitability for the job. When they hit his empty belt, she frowned. "Where's your sword?"

"He doesn't have one," Karin replied, before Yasutora could answer for himself, "We'll pick something up from the guardhouse on the way."

Yasutora looked at the clock as they sprinted past. Just over five minutes had elapsed since Karin had knocked on his door, and yet so much had changed. None of them had spared even a thought for the plot to keep Ichigo's absence a secret. And it was too late now. If there was any fall-out, they'd just have to deal, somehow.

* * *

Scorch marks stretched across long swathes of ground next to the barrack block. In some places the grass was blackened to a crisp. In others, burnt away completely, exposing the earth beneath. Between, here and there, lay the remains of bodies, thankfully not much more than unrecognisable piles of organic mush in the darkness. And even in the slow steady rain, the air hung heavy, stinking with a combination of singed meat and burnt hair, overlaid with electricity and the salty tang of the ocean. To Yasutora, it felt like the immediate aftermath of an earthquake, when the whole world hunkered down, praying the worst was over.

"I need to fix the cover," Karin said, indicating the drain they'd used to get in. "Try and work out how long we've got before he comes back this way."

'He' being Ukitake-taichō.

As Karin began reassembling the kidō barrier, Yasutora opened his senses, searching for the captain's reiatsu. It was impossible to miss, swelling vast and depthless as the sea. "About half a mile. That way," Yasutora said, pointing. "Heading away from us."

"Good, then we've got time." Karin pressed both hands to the barrier and hissed in triumph as it glowed into life. "This way," she said a moment later, and stepped into shunpo.

Yasutora followed her, his own version nothing like as fast or efficient but good enough over short distances. They were headed for the main divisional building, and the communication centre on the second floor. According to Hisana, that's where the evacuation command would have originated from, and she thought they might be able to use the same equipment to spread word of the new plan.

Unsurprisingly, the main doors were locked. While Karin thumped on them, yelling for someone to get their ass in gear and come open up, Yasutora drew his sword on the off-chance those inside panicked and attacked. It felt strange in his hands. No one except ex-shinigami fought with swords in the Pits, so everything he knew about them was theoretical, but if he was going to have a zanpakutō, he guessed he'd better get used to them.

Gripping the sword tightly with the blade upright in front of him, he pressed his back to the door and waited.

Karin glanced up at him, her scowl deepening when she saw the sword. "Remind me to dig out a longer blade when we get back," she said. "That looks beyond stupid."

It definitely felt light. Yasutora studied it, frowning, trying to see it with her eyes. Okay, she might have a point. It did look a bit like a toothpick measured against the length of his arms. Though maybe, if this was the sword the bull had been talking about earlier, the one that would become his zanpakutō, it'd change when he put half his soul into it, like Rukia's had.

If he could ever work out how to do that bit.

"Oi!" Karin yelled again. "This is Kurosaki-goseki, 6th division. Open this freaking door before I blow it down!"

"How do I know it's you?" a timid voice called from inside. "You might be a fake sent by the 12th and as soon I open the door, you'll gas me and kidnap me and I'll wake up on a dissection table with half my guts hanging out."

"Impossible," Karin replied. "I know you, Yuki, you haven't got any guts. If you did, you'd be out here helping your friends, instead hiding in there like a coward."

The guard sighed, "You definitely sound like Kurosaki-san. How about… I know, tell me something only I would know."

"It's supposed to be something only I would-" Karin began, then shook her head. "Never mind. How about this. Last week, you got so drunk, you climbed on the table and started stripping, and when you dropped your pants-"

The door flew open and a small shinigami, no taller than Karin herself, appeared He bowed deeply, black bangs flopping forwards on one side. The other was held back by three round hair clips. "Kurosaki-goseki, welcome to the 13th," he intoned.

"'Bout time," Karin muttered, and pushed past him into the building.

As Yasutora went to follow her, the shinigami, Yuki, who was still looking at Karin, tried to shut the door in his face. When it collided with Yasutora, Yuki turned round in surprise, took one look at Yasutora's drawn sword and screamed, "They're here! They're here! The 12th is here!"

"Oh for-" Karin snapped and spun-kicked the little shinigami between the shoulder blades, launching him out through the doors to bounce down the front steps, where he lay groaning dramatically. Not even bothering to give him a second glance, Karin sprinted off again, and this time Yasutora stuck right to her heels.

Halfway up the stairs, she started yelling again, "Shino? Answer me! If Yuki's still here, I know you are!"

Another shinigami appeared on the landing at the top, this one tall and slender. "Kurosaki-goseki?" she said, her face crumpling with relief. "Thank the gods. Tell me you brought Kira."

"I wish," Karin said, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing past her along the corridor. "What happened to him, any idea?"

Shino hurried after her. "A butterfly came and he had to go. I've no idea who it was from. The message was private."

Karin didn't say anything, but it sounded as suspicious as hell to Yasutora. Anyone who wanted the 13th ripped apart must have known they'd have to get rid of Kira first.

Halfway along the corridor, Karin slammed into another room and stood there, hands on her hips, glaring around at the assorted equipment. Yasutora stared too, with a mixture of horror and fascination. If someone took an old fashioned sound system and replaced half the bits with throbbing pink and purple goo, it'd look something like this. And if Karin knew how to use it, she was doing better than Yasutora.

With a huff, Karin turned to Shino. "We've got a plan. Our captain owns the estate south west of your division grounds. Hisana's going to set up a safe zone, your guys can jump the walls between them- "

Shino gasped, "The alarms!"

"I know," Karin replied, "The 12th are gonna come straight in the minute they go off, but if we have everyone in place beforehand, by the time they work out what's happening, your lot will all be safe at the 6th, and they're going to be left facing down Ukitake-taichō."

Shino nodded along with Karin's words. When she'd finished, Shino said, "So you need to send a message to what's left of the co-ordinating teams." She shot across to what could have been an eight track recorder, if they came with waving antenna and eyes on stalks. "Not a problem. We can do it from here, see."

She began pressing buttons and tweaking throbbing bits. Karin went over to join her, leaving Yasutora by the door. "Everyone to the southwest, you said?" Shino asked, hands hovering over the controls. Then she blanched, and gave Karin a wide-eyed look. "What'll we do if taichō follows them?"

This was the bit Yasutora was unclear about too.

Karin took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to blow up this building."

As Yasutora, Shino, and even Yuki, who'd reappeared from downstairs, started protesting, Karin held up her hands. "It'll work. I've been around Ukitake-taichō when he flips, and I've talked to Rukia and Kira about what happens. And what it boils down to is this; however horrible the things are he's doing, he thinks he's protecting the 13th. So if I blow the main division offices sky-high, he's going to notice and come running."

"And you're what?" Shino demanded. "Going to sit here and wait for him to come?"

"Nope, I'm going to run in the opposite direction." Not the tunnel they'd used to get in? No, that was far too close to this building and on a direct route from the south west. Ukitake's reiatsu would take them out before they could escape.

"But that's towards the main gates and Kurotsuchi-taichō," Yuki was saying, shakily.

"I know," Karin said, "But I'm faster than I was, and stronger. Not that I plan on fighting any of them. This is going to be strictly a duck and run operation."

And potentially suicidal. No way could Yasutora let her do it. Stepping towards her, he said, "Tell me how and I'll blow up the building."

Karin looked surprised at him for a second, and then grimaced. "Thanks, really, but you can't. It's a high-level kidō."

He thought it might be, but he'd had to offer. "Then I'm staying with you. We'll go through the 12th together."

A grateful smile curled Karin's lips and she nodded. "Okay, we can do that." She turned her attention to Shino. "I'll go start. You send out the message and then head that way yourselves. There's only you two left in the building, right?"

"Hn," Shino agreed, all her focus on the equipment. "Except for the negator, but Kira locked that in his office."

Karin, who'd been heading for the door, froze. "A negator?" she asked. "I didn't know Ukitake had one."

With distracted hand wave over her shoulder, Shino said, "Kyōraku-taichō dropped it off a couple of days ago. No idea why. Creepy thing."

An odd expression, like gut-deep grief passed over Karin's face, but if she'd planned on saying anything, she'd left it too late. Behind her, Shino began relaying the message. "Attention, all section commanders, this is home-base. You have new orders. I repeat, this is home-base, you have new orders."

Things were finally moving.

Snagging Yuki by the sleeve, Karin swept past Yasutora and out of the room. As they ploughed down the stairs, Karin said, "Tell me you have a copy of the key for Kira's office."

Yuki, whose feet were only just keeping up on the steps, squeaked, "No! Why would I have one of those?"

"Because you're a sneaky little shit who always has an ace up his sleeve in case someone tries to bully him," Karin replied.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Karin swung Yuki to a halt and glared at him. Yuki flushed and stared at his feet.

"So here's what's going to happen," Karin told him, "You're going to give that key to Yasutora and then you're going to run as fast as you can to the south-west wall where you're going to tell Sagara-fukutaichō that we've sent out the message. Got it?"

Yuki dipped a bow. "Yes, Kurosaki-goseki."

That fierce glare, worthy of Ichigo, turned on Yasutora next. "Find Hanatarō," Karin said, "I'll be outside, prepping this place to blow." And with that, she stalked away.

"Eh…" Yuki said, as they watched her go, "Who's Hanatarō?"

Yasutora didn't know for certain, but he could add two and two together. "Negator," he said and held out his hand. "Key?"

Yuki fished in the front of his shihakushō and pulled out a whole bunch. "You might as well take all of them if this place is going up," he said, pressing the keys into Yasutora's palm before following Karin out through the front doors.

Kira's office, the one where Karin had brought him the only other time he'd been to the 13th, was directly along the corridor on the ground floor. When he got there, Yasutora unlocked the door on the third attempt and pushed it open. The room inside was dark and smelled a bit musty. "Hello?" he called.

In the far corner, something whimpered and scrabbled at the wall in a way that Yasutora recognised as someone trying to hide in plain view.

Hunkering down, Yasutora approached slowly. "Hanatarō?" he asked, keeping his voice low and steady. There was no answer, but when he crept closer, the negator didn't panic either. "Ichigo's sister sent me."

"Ichi-go?" an oddly muffled voice hiccoughed.

"Yeah. Some bad things are happening outside, and we have to get out of here."

"Shi-Shiba-sama is out there?"

Damn. If he said yes, the negator would probably come without a fight, but even so, lying about this felt wrong. "No, he's busy somewhere else."

Silence. The big difference between this and coaxing out the strays that lived behind his apartment was having to use words. The cats were happy if he never spoke at all. This was much harder, and time was ticking. If they didn't blow this place at the right time, Ukitake was going to follow the 13th right into the middle of the 6th.

Yasutora tried again, forcing every scrap of urgency from his voice and body. "Karin's there."

"Kurosaki-sama."

"Yeah." Was it his imagination or was the shadow moving?

A rustle of cloth confirmed it. Slowly, a figure emerged from the dark corner. Reassuringly it had two legs and was wearing a uniform. Yasutora was just about to stand up and reach for it, when it stepped into the light and he saw its face. Or what was left of it. Now it was nothing more that flaps of loose skin and flaccid flesh with a mouth just visible underneath.

It was grotesque. Like some kind of freak show. How could anyone stand to live like that?

The little creature cringed, arms coming up to protect its head, and Yasutora yanked back on his flaring reiatsu, tamping it down, hard. The negator, Hanatarō, was obviously a sensitive. Being around Ukitake must have been horrible for it, and here was Yasutora just making it worse.

"Sorry," he said, and held out his hand. "Let's go."

The face might have been hideous, but the hand that slid into his was warm and smooth and entirely human.

* * *

"You found him." Karin said, rising to her feet as they hurried towards her. "Good, now all we have to do is wait for the alarms to go off."

It was like she summoned them. The air suddenly filled with an unmistakable wail that drowned out everything else, even the ability to think for a few seconds. Karin looked startled, as if she hadn't been expecting them just yet, but yelled over the top of the noise, "Get clear. Over there. I'll join you once it blows!" She pointed towards a small building a couple of hundred yards away. Probably a toilet block.

Yasutora nodded, caught Hanatarō by the arm and 'shunpo'd'. It wasn't as easy as it looked with a passenger and he staggered out of it, only just managing to keep his feet. Hanatarō wasn't so lucky, ending up face down in the mud. Yasutora hoisted him back onto his feet. "You okay?" he asked. At least this far away from the building the alarms weren't quite so loud.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the negator replied, dipping dizzying bows. Yasutora put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and got a curious 'look' for his trouble. It was disconcerting how Hanatarō managed to do that with no face. "When you came, I thought you were Kyōraku-taichō," Hanatarō told him. "That's why I hid. I was supposed to be protecting Ukitake-taichō, but he left and Kira-sanseki wouldn't let me go with him. Kyōraku-taichō is going to be so mad with me for letting his friend get hurt."

Considering what Ukitake had been doing that last time Yasutora saw him, him getting hurt wasn't the main issue. Having said that, the guy had seemed nice enough the other night, if a bit unstable, so maybe getting hurt was what had set him off for real.

A massive explosion followed a flash of blue-white lightning from the direction of the main building. For a brief worried second, Yasutora thought Ukitake had already arrived, but no, Karin shunpo'd up a second later, looking a bit toasty. "Ready," she panted, drawing her sword.

Taking a last look at the burning building, now a conflagration of red and orange, Yasutora nodded and grabbed for Hanatarō's arm. But as he did, Hanatarō crumpled, slipping through Yasutora's fingers, gasping as he fell, "He's coming." Even without the warning, Yasutora would have understood a moment later as the incredible pressure of Ukitake's reiatsu boiled towards them across the divisional grounds.

Yasutora lurched into a panicked stumble, hauling Hanatarō's comatose form under his arm and reaching for Karin. They had to get away from here. Just one step of shunpo and maybe they could outrun the advancing storm. He pushed off, feeling Karin add her strength to the step. They landed once and took off again. And again, with no idea where they were heading, just that they had to run.

Run because Ukitake wouldn't follow. He'd stay by the exploded building and be swamped by the incoming 12th. Except the weight of that reiatsu never got any lighter. Instead, every step they took became slower and shorter and more difficult, until finally when, muscles screaming, Yasutora tried to force his reiatsu against the ground, nothing happened. Ukitake's reiatsu was too strong. There wasn't enough of Yasutora's to escape his own body. He was being pushed further and further inside himself, subsumed by Ukitake's power. He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel his limbs, his ears rang and the ground danced in front of darkening eyes.

By the time he caught a glimpse of white haori, Yasutora was on his knees, Karin beside him.

"Oh child, not you as well. Curse those monsters for all eternity." The words, full of pain and despair, throbbed in Yasutora's ears like they were being spoken underwater. Grubby bare feet edged into his field of vision. A swirling edge of white cloth, the flash of a hooked silver blade. But Yasutora wasn't the target. It was Karin. "I'm so sorry, my dear."

A dark red hilt pushed forward and Yasutora knew. This was it. Ukitake was going to kill her. Explode Karin like he had all those others. Ichigo's sister, who was under Yasutora's protection. He was going to lose another one. He was going to lose-

A bellow rang through his mind, as strident as a challenge. Full of the power and bravura of the rampaging bull. _Call me out!_ it demanded.

_How?_

_You know my name. Trust your soul!_

Instinctively, Yasutora let go and the other half of his soul rose to meet him. "Charge, Morinari!" he roared as reiatsu powered through his limbs and out into the maelstrom. His sword leapt to his hand, its shape twisting as it came, and he swung, hardly aware his target but catching it anyway. The hilt of Ukitake's zanpakutō stopped short, trapped in the bull's horns now projecting from the wrappings enclosing Yasutora's arm from his knuckles almost up to his elbow. Yasutora flexed his fingers, and a grim smile curved his lips. They might look like standard bandages, but he knew without testing that those wrappings had all the strength and resilience of Kevlar.

But Ukitake wasn't giving up that easily. Pressure bore down on Yasutora, enough to make his bones creak. He pushed back, feeling the massive strength of the bull coursing through his body, reinforcing his shoulders and legs. He would not give way, he would not succumb. Except-

Yasutora raised his head, caught a brief glimpse of white hair, a twisted rage-filled face and a descending sword. Ukitake's zanpakutō had two blades. He'd got it wrong, again. No! This couldn't happen, he needed more strength, more time, needed-

"Strike, Ungetsu!"

Reiatsu like cold fire exploded next to him and another blade swung up and round. It burned blue-white from tip to hilt, the flames flaring as Karin pushed to her feet, forcing Ukitake's second blade up and away from its killing blow. Grimacing, Yasutora followed her, the pair of them driving the captain back first one step, and then another.

It felt like victory. Morinari's challenging bellow took on a triumphant edge. They could do this! They could win!

And then the blade of Ukitake's sword, the one whose hilt Yasutora had so neatly trapped, swung down. Pain blossomed across Yasutora's belly. Not severe, not mortal, but enough to collapse the flimsy wall of reiatsu he'd raised to keep Ukitake at bay. Ukitake's power rushed back in, wrapping Yasutora in bonds of steel and Yasutora's knees hit the ground, driving a grunt from somewhere so deep in his body that it hurt.

Karin was next, neatly disarmed in a swirl of sword play that made Yasutora's attempts at wielding a blade look like an incompetent child's. She fell, catching herself on Ukitake's haori and knelt there, staring up at him, her face contorted with frustration and fear and pure furious rage.

"I'm truly sorry," Ukitake said, reaching out and cupping Karin's chin, "but everything will be well again afterwards. I promise."

Again that dark red hilt pressed forward and this time Yasutora had no choice but to watch, bound, helpless and hopeless. Even the bull was quiet, its spirit quashed by the sheer power of what they were facing.

Metal touched Karin's forehead and Ukitake's reiatsu rose. Like a coward, Yasutora closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face swell and burst, and waited for the wet spatter of blood and brains.

Instead, something smacked into him. Hard. Yasutora flailed, off-balanced by something impossibly strong. Another push and he was sliding, shoved across the ground in an uncontrolled skid that had him snatching at grass and twigs and anything to slow down. A body tumbled past. Yasutora ducked, but feet still caught him a glancing blow beneath the chin that snapped his head back into the ground. Stunned and seeing stars, he kept rolling, quickly fetching up against something solid.

For a second all he could was lie there, but then it all rushed back and he scrambled desperately to his feet, back towards Ukitake because he'd been given a chance to save Karin and he wasn't going to waste it. He wasn't going to fail. Not again.

"Yasutora, stop!"

At the sound of Karin's voice from behind him, Yasutora snapped up short like he reached the end of a chain, and finally looked at where he was running. Karin and Hanatarō weren't there. Another shinigami had taken their place, his sword sweeping Ukitake's aside, forcing it wide, while he gripped Ukitake's other wrist. They strained against each other, seeming almost to dance.

"Do not do this, sir," the newcomer said, his deep voice rolling across the space between them. "There is no honour to be had in slaughtering the innocent." His braided hair shifted in the wind of Ukitake's reiatsu. A mask, a bit like a hockey mask, covered the top half of his face, and he wore a lieutenant's badge on his left arm like Hisana's.

Yasutora had seen him before, at the Pits in very different circumstances. Here and now, he'd just saved their lives.

"That's Tōsen-fukutaichō from the 5th," Karin whispered beside Yasutora's elbow, confirming the newcomer's identity. Yasutora glanced down at her. Apart from mud and twigs in her hair and a red mark on her forehead, she looked fine.

"You cannot kill what is already dead," Ukitake was replying. As he spoke, he threw off the other man's grip and swung away from him, taking several paces before spinning round and continuing, "Look at them." His sword swept out, gesturing to Karin and Yasutora. "Another hour or less, and their chains will be gone. The change will come on them, and I cannot, in all conscience, condemn my own niece to become a hollow."

It was so weird. When he spoke like this, Ukitake sounded totally sane. It was only when you listened to his actual words that you realised he was operating in an entirely different reality to everyone else.

The lieutenant seemed to know that already. "She is not your niece, sir. That woman moved on many years ago. This is Kurosaki Karin-"

"No!" Ukitake protested. "This is Shiba Hanaike, granddaughter of my sister Itsuko-"

"Sir," the lieutenant began, but Ukitake was having none of it. He pointed his sword at the lieutenant's chest, his haori lifting as his reiatsu began to swell again. "Do not treat me like an idiot, Kaname-kun. I know my own family!" Hurt pride now mixed with anger on Ukitake's face.

"I see," Tōsen said. He glanced in Karin's direction for a brief second before turning his attention back to Ukitake. "Then you refuse to put down your sword and retire from the field?"

"Shit," Karin muttered. "We need to leave. Now." Her fingers gripped Yasutora's sleeve.

"Of course! This is my division. While they still need me, I will never retire from the field."

"Then you leave me no choice." Bringing his sword to an upright position, Tousen pressed his hand to the ring through the guard.

Yasutora's arm almost got wrenched out of its socket as Karin stepped into shunpo, just as the world around them exploded with reiatsu once again. She must have scooped Hanatarō up on the way through because, when they landed in a heap about a quarter of a mile away, Hanatarō was there as well.

"Crap," Karin gasped, her head thudding down on Yasutora's arm. "That was way too close."

Yasutora sat up just far enough to see her, before giving up when the wound across his belly burned. "What was it?"

"Tōsen-fukutaichō went into bankai. Look." Hanatarō, who apparently had the recovery abilities of cockroach when he wasn't terrified or being swamped by reiatsu, pointed back the way they'd come. Yasutora craned his neck to see, as Karin rolled onto her knees. Back-dropped by the burning building was a giant black balloon, its outline limned by orange flames.

"That's one weird bankai," Karin said, "I wonder what it does."

"Takes off?" Yasutora suggested.

Karin gave him a look, before continuing as if Yasutora hadn't spoken, "If it's even his. Maybe he tried to go bankai and Ukitake-taichō got in first."

Hanatarō was shaking his head. "No, I can't see it like you can, but it's definitely Tōsen-fukutaichō's reiatsu. Even this far away it tastes of black and gold. And in bankai, it sings!"

He sounded so happy about his discovery that Yasutora couldn't help smiling. He'd been totally wrong back in the office when he'd first seen the negator. For all that he'd been so messed up, it was obvious Hanatarō had a huge appetite for life.

The alarms were still blaring, though they sounded much quieter where they were now, and with Ukitake contained, it felt like a lot of the urgency had gone. But it wasn't over yet. Not until they'd got everyone safely back to the 6th.

It was a bit like getting to the end of a marathon, knowing you had to run home again. Yasutora shoved to his knees, picked up his zanpakutō, which he'd somehow managed to hang on to, and held out a hand to Karin.

She huffed, but took it and pulled herself to her feet. "Hanatarō, what are we looking at?"

"Oh! Um." The negator jumped to his feet. "There's a mass of reiatsu moving towards another mass gathering to the south west. All standard types, except…" He leaned forward, giving off a more focused vibe. "No, that's just Sagara-fukutaichō."

"All standard?" Karin said. "Rukia's not there?"

"Rukia went to Ungendō with Ukitake-taichō," Hanatarō said.

Yasutora caught a glimpse of Karin's face crumpling before she turned away. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, completely. It was for special training so I was left with Kira-sanseki."

Karin's head dipped and her shoulders shook once. Hanatarō cottoned on straight away. "Oh," he said, "I'm so sorry. Ukitake-taichō must have already killed her, mustn't he."

It had to be true. Yasutora had seen that hut explode. If Rukia had been in there, she was definitely dead. No one could have survived that explosion.

This was going to hit Hisana hard. And Karin too, once she let herself feel it properly. But for now her back had already straightened and when she looked at Yasutora, her eyes were dry and clear. "We could get out through the tunnel," she said. "And be home in time for breakfast. Or we could go after the 12th. If we attack from this side, they'll be caught between us and the guys from the 13th waiting to go over the wall. That way, we can do some serious damage."

"But, Kurosaki-sama, there's hundreds of them," Hanatarō protested.

Karin smirked at him a bit wanly. "Yeah, all with normal reiatsu, you said, except Hisana. Which gives us the advantage."

Because they had shikai. Despite everything, the corners of Yasutora's mouth curled into a smile and inside his heart, Morinari snorted and pawed the ground. _This time we will not be beaten. This time we'll trample them all before us!_

_We didn't do so well before,_ Yasutora pointed out.

_Only because you didn't release me properly. A bull has horns, but it has hooves too. And you have two fists._

Was it as simple as that? There was one way to find out.

Yasutora drew his zanpakutō and, for the second time, called out his shikai. This time, when Morinari rose to meet him, it felt complete. Reiatsu coursed down both his arms and the sword spilt, flowing and reforming around each fist as the wrappings and twin bull's horns, that curved wickedly above Yasutora's knuckles at the perfect height to trap a blade or give his punches some serious extra bite.

"Nice," Karin said with a nod of approval, and released her own zanpakutō. Blue-white reiatsu dripped from the blade, hissing like acid where it hit the ground. If it did the same thing to flesh and bone, it was going to be seriously nasty.

Yasutora raised his eyebrows and Karin shrugged. "I think it's because of Mom," she said, as if that explained anything much. "Right, let's go!"

* * *

The 12th never knew what hit them. Yasutora and Karin carved them apart, splitting their attack right down the middle. Some tried to turn and use their sleeping gas, but Hanatarō, who was clinging to Yasutora's back like a monkey, quickly gave them the heads up and Karin and Yasutora simply shunpo'd away, leaving the 12th with their vulnerable backs turned towards the officers of the13th, who'd suddenly discovered the heart and will to fight.

From behind the lines, the other side of the wall, came the sounds of more fighting. The 6th, Hanatarō said, keeping the way clear for those still struggling to escape over the wall. And despite the turning tide of the battle, there was a surprising number still running.

"Where's taichō?" one officer called out as they made contact through the melee.

"Fighting Tōsen-fukutaichō," Karin shouted back, and the man's face blanched.

The officer fighting beside him swung her sword viciously at an attacker, slicing him in half length-wise. "Guess we're finally getting a new captain," she snarled, yanking her blade clear. "And them's who took advantage of the old one'd had better look to their laurels."

They glared at each other, enemy temporarily forgotten in favour of personal enmities. Karin flicked her sword at one guy who came too close and he dropped, screaming and holding his face.

"Yasutora-san," Hanatarō said suddenly, loudly, "I think- I think Kyōraku-taichō's arrived!"

The first officer must have overheard because he smirked, "Sounds like you jumped the gun, Echizen. Kyōraku-taichō'll fix things right back the way they should be."

"Then I'll just jump the freaking wall and sign up with the 6th," another officer further along the line shot back.

"If they don't mind taking traitors."

"Oi! Who are you calling a traitor, you little-"

At this rate, they were going to end up with a civil war on their hands. Yasutora reversed out of the line towards the wall and the renewed influx of attackers got the 13th focused on the real enemy again. Tiredly, he let Morinari fade away and sheathed his blade.

Hanatarō was shifting around so he was facing the wreckage of the main buildings. "There's something- Oh!"

Yasutora knew that 'oh'. "What's the problem?" he asked, turning to look himself. The flames burnt high, bright and orange, and were perfectly visible. There was nothing in front of them. Tōsen's bankai was gone. "Did he lose?" Yasutora asked.

Hanatarō was quiet for a moment, then he said, "His bankai was cut apart but I can still feel his reiatsu and he doesn't feel injured."

"Kyōraku?" Karin asked, arriving next to them, her sword back in its sealed form. There was blood spattered on her cheek and mud caked in her hair, but she was still in one piece.

"He's with Ukitake-taichō and - oh!"

That 'oh' again. Yasutora bit back annoyance and trusted Hanatarō to say what was happening as soon as he knew. Sure enough a moment later, Hanatarō sat up straighter, fingers tightening on Yasutora's shoulder. "Kyōraku-taichō's leaving, and he's taking Ukitake-taichō with him," he said decisively. "Tousen-fukutaichō is-"

Someone stepped out of shunpo on the wall above them. The mask was the same as before, but the white haori Tōsen now wore over his shihakushō was new. And when he turned to display the 13 on the back, gasps of shock interspersed with cheers ran up and down the line. Immediately it began to fracture, some shinigami pulling out and heading for the safety of the 6th, while others surged back and rejoined their comrades.

After a moment or two, Tōsen dropped down from the wall and, landing beside them, dipped a surprisingly respectful bow. "We have little time," he said, "I must remain a visible symbol to dissuade the 12th's captain from joining the fray. However I felt I must come and apologise for not interceding earlier in your fight with Ukitake. I was under the mistaken impression that you were also challenging him for the captaincy and didn't wish to get in your way. My error almost cost you both your lives."

It was a polite apology, but rather than accept it, Karin snapped, "So it was you coming over the wall that set off the alarms. I thought they started too early. Damn, you nearly screwed it up for everyone."

Her rudeness didn't seem to phase Tōsen. "And yet you still managed to rally the troops," he replied, "In fact, having seen you fight, I have an opening for a fukutaichō if you are interested."

"Yeah, no," Karin shot back. "I know what the 5th does to its seated officers and I'd prefer to keep my own eyes, thanks."

"In that case," Tōsen said, unsheathing his zanpakutō, "You have sixty seconds to leave my division grounds before I declare you trespassers and have you killed."

At that point, with the fight mostly over, neither of them needed any more of an excuse to leave.


	19. Hideaway Home

Renji dozed, the fingers of his left hand looped loosely around Byakuya's wrist. Byakuya himself had been silent and still for ages, but all the time Renji could feel that steady pulse, he could relax, even if the rest of his body was playing brace and wince as Arisawa steered the car along narrow roads that made some parts of the Pits look like boulevards. Renji had jammed his shoulders against the backs of the car's front seats, crammed his knees into the space between them and, so far, had managed to keep the worst of the weight off his ass and thighs.

On one side of him sat Tatsuki, glaring out of the window like the passing scenery had mortally insulted her, and on the other was Rukia, who was taking too much interest in Renji's injuries. He'd put a shirt on, except Byakuya was wearing one as bandages and had lost the other when the arrancar grabbed him, so Renji was all out of extras. At least she wasn't being obvious about it, but since Renji had his head resting on the back of Byakuya's seat, putting Rukia right in his line of sight, it was a bit hard not to notice.

Rukia hadn't come out of her encounters unscathed either. A lump the size of egg showed on her temple and one of her eyes was blackening nicely. That was probably what had put her out of her first fight against the arrancar.

As he watched, Rukia's face twisted into an expression that Renji recognised from her sister. Any second now, the insistent and too penetrating questions were going to start.

"How come you're here, anyway," Renji asked, getting his query in first.

Rukia's wide startled eyes met his for a second before cutting away. "Following orders," she muttered, "What else."

"To look for us in Karakura?" It made sense that out of everyone, Isshin's old mentor would be the one to guess where they'd be. Not to mention, it was Rukia who'd found the Kurosaki's in the first place. So yeah, Renji could totally believe that Ukitake had sent Rukia to track them down. The only question now was, "And then what? If you're planning on taking us back, I'll fight you."

"Oh ho! You could try," Rukia shot back, her voice mocking. "I don't think you'd get very far though, mister 'I can't even shunpo any more'."

Harsh, but true. Which also ruled out Renji's other option; grabbing Byakuya and running. Renji huffed a sigh and turned to glance out the front of the car. A large modern building was coming up on the right. The hospital, Renji thought, recognising it from the photographs he'd seen earlier.

"So what then? Are you planning on taking us back to Seireitei?" he asked.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Rukia shrug. "Not exactly. Taichō told me to watch you and report back, that's all."

Theoretically Renji and Byakuya were wanted criminals; Renji for attempted murder and Byakuya for breaking Renji out of jail. Ukitake's orders should have been to apprehend them at all costs. The fact that they weren't, told Renji a lot.

For example, it meant that Ukitake, and therefore Rukia, weren't aligned with the shinigami who'd been hunting them. Renji had suspected as much, since Rukia had saved them from the arrancar rather than just letting it take them.

In and of itself, that was interesting, but it also had huge implications about what was going on back in Seireitei, because only one thing could make Ukitake give an order like that. The Gotei, and maybe even Central itself, was divided over what to do about them.

Renji's heart kicked up a notch. Did this mean they might be able to go home? Get their lives back?

Just the idea of it made butterflies stir in Renji's gut. He hadn't even dared to hope.

Arisawa turned into the hospital parking lot. The car swayed as it cornered and Renji shifted slightly to keep his weight balanced, his fingers tightening on Byakuya's wrist - where the pulse suddenly leaped into a racing flutter.

Had Byakuya come to the same realisation Renji had?

Rukia made a confused sound, just as Byakuya's pulse thumped again, once, hard, and then stopped.

"Byakuya!" Renji yelped, lurching forwards and shaking him by the shoulder. No response. Nothing. Not even the kind of resistance that someone sleeping gave. "Shit! His heart's stopped!"

The car shuddered as it screeched to a halt and Arisawa's arm shot out, his fingers searching Byakuya's throat with a skill born of many years.

A second passed. Two. Renji couldn't breathe. Was too scared to breathe. If Byakuya died…

"It is beating, just very faintly," Arisawa said. He shook his head, a short sharp action that was matched by the speed his hand dropped to the gear stick. The car shot forwards heading straight for the front of the hospital. "Tatsuki-chan, park the car for me," he said as he stood on the brakes again, the rear of the car slewing slightly before it stopped.

Renji was out of the car almost before it had stopped moving, practically shoving Rukia out in front of him. He grabbed the front door and wrenched it open, going down on one knee as Byakuya flopped out through the gap and landed in Renji's arms. Renji caught him and lifted him carefully, hardly feeling the pull across his back and legs. He'd suffer for this later, but that would have to wait. Right now, Byakuya needed him.

Arisawa was already over by the main hospital doors, talking intently to a man in uniform. As Renji strode towards them, the man dipped a bow and stood back so Arisawa could enter. Renji followed him in, Rukia on his heels, to find Arisawa heading towards the bank of elevators at the far end of the corridor.

He eased Byakuya slightly in his arms - had he always been this light or was it a recent thing - and directed a sharp look at Rukia as they walked. "You felt him crash." It wasn't even a question, just seeking confirmation.

Rukia lifted a shoulder. "His reiatsu dropped out like someone switched him off."

That's what Renji had thought. "What about now?"

"He's there. Barely."

The deep healing coma of a shinigami in crisis, it had to be. Renji risked a glance at Byakuya's face where it was tucked against Renji's chest. From this angle, shaded like it was by the bulk of Renji's body and half covered by the bandage, it didn't seem any worse. If anything, it looked better. The blood had dried, scabs had formed and nothing was gaping any more.

But a healing coma wasn't good. When a shinigami crashed that badly, it was always touch and go whether they were going to pull round. If they were back home, he'd be heading straight for the 4th right now.

And Ukitake-taichō had sent Rukia to watch over them and report back. Not apprehend.

Arisawa was waiting in the elevator, the door held open. Before he could second guess himself, Renji said quietly, "If we went back to Seireitei right now, would they heal him?"

They reached the elevators. Rukia still hadn't answered and when Renji stepped inside and turned to face the doors, he realised she'd stopped walking and was stood staring at him from a few feet away. He stared back, gaze level. Sure, they'd probably chuck Renji back in jail, but it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant Byakuya not slipping deeper and deeper into a coma until he faded away completely. And Ichigo would be there, so they'd be back together, sort of.

After a moment or two, Rukia visibly shook herself and joined them, earning a grunt from Arisawa as he let the doors slide closed and pressed buttons. The drop was identical to the elevator at the airport and Renji wobbled slightly before bracing himself, Byakuya's negligible weight still enough to throw him off. Above the door, numbers lit up in rapid succession as they plummeted deeper underground.

Rukia kept her silence, though Renji could feel her eyes on him, penetrating and too astute, just like her sister. The car lurched to a stop and after a dull ding, the doors pulled back to reveal a dimly lit corridor with exposed pipework and cables on the ceiling. Some kind of maintenance level, Renji guessed as he followed Arisawa out of the elevator.

There was a scuffle of footsteps beside him, and then Rukia said, "He hasn't told you, has he?"

Renji glanced down at her, adjusting his grip on Byakuya. His back was starting to hurt, little darting shots of burning pain, probably what was left of the scabs and stitches pulling away. At least he wasn't going to have to go through the discomfort of being unstuck from his shirts again. And anyway, it was nothing compared to what Byakuya had been suffering.

"Told me what?" he asked.

"If you go back, he won't be put in jail, he'll be executed."

Renji stumbled, his feet expressing what his mind couldn't wrap itself around. "Just for rescuing me?" he demanded, once he found his tongue. Because that didn't make any sense. A jail term, sure, that much he expected, but Byakuya was one of the True First. He'd get a light sentence and a cell to himself. Look at Shiba Isshin, and his crimes were way worse that what Byakuya had done, weren't they?

"You?" Rukia laughed, and it wasn't in amusement. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smirk as she continued, "No one even knows about you. They all think you're still safely locked up in Shugo."

"Then what the hell?" This time it was Renji who stopped walking and Rukia who went on ahead.

After a couple of steps, she stopped and turned, looking back at Renji with an expression as serious as any he'd ever seen. "He loosed his bankai on Central. If he goes back, he'll be executed for the murder of all forty-six members and twenty of their guards."

It was only deeply ingrained instinct that kept Renji's arms firm around Byakuya. Every other part of his body turned to jelly, flushing a hot and cold born of utter terror. Because that actually made a kind of sense.

Most people would disagree, arguing that Byakuya was too law-abiding to ever do anything like that. Renji knew better. With Byakuya, there were no half measures. If he decided to do something, he'd do it with all of his ability, holding back nothing, so if he'd been prepared to break the law to rescue Renji from jail, that was what he'd do, whoever and whatever stood in his way. His pride wouldn't let him do anything else.

He even understood why Byakuya hadn't said anything. Part of the reason why Byakuya loved the law was that it made people take responsibility for their own actions, and, like Renji had told Ichigo after they'd rescued Matsumoto and the guys from the 10th, if there was one thing Byakuya believed in, it was that. So it made perfect sense for him not to tell Renji what he'd done.

In Byakuya's mind, those deaths were his responsibility to bear, not Renji's. Bad enough that Renji was having to suffer the consequences, without him having the guilt as well.

All of which meant absolutely nothing right now. Not when Byakuya was half-dead in Renji's arms and the only guy who could fix him, maybe, was waiting down the other end of the corridor, holding open a heavy looking door.

Renji pulled himself together and strode past Rukia, nodding an apology to Arisawa as he ducked past him into a small room that contained nothing more than a tall metal cupboard, a stack of boxes along the back wall, and a medical trolley like the ones at the 12th.

Heart suddenly in his mouth, Renji hesitated on the threshold, memories of being tied down and helpless under Kurotsuchi's scalpel threatening to flood back. The sweet rank scent of formaldehyde filled his nose and the room shivered, overlaid with the machinery and madness of the institutes's laboratories. For the briefest second, Renji's mind hung poised, waiting for the final piece to tip it over the edge.

Then Rukia shoved past him with an annoyed grumble and the spell was broken. Renji swallowed hard, dragged his eyes away from the trolley and told himself not to be an idiot. This was the living world, not the 12th, and anyway, this trolley was missing the blood stains and restraints that came as standard on every single one in Kurotsuchi's labs.

"Put him down here, please," Arisawa was saying, patting the pristine white sheet on top of the trolley.

Renji trod over to it and lowered his precious burden, careful not to let any part of Byakuya down too hard. It wasn't easy. Byakuya wasn't quite a dead weight, but it was close. His body had so little resistance that everything just sort of flopped. Once Renji had put him down, he ended up having to free Byakuya's hair from where it had got trapped beneath his shoulders, and rescue the hand that had ended up dangling over the side. The fingers were too cool and Renji rubbed them lightly between his own before resting it carefully at Byakuya's side.

Only then did he let his gaze rise to Byakuya's face. It was pale beneath the dried blood and bandages, peaceful, and way too much like a death-mask for Renji to look at for very long.

The clank of a metal door behind him was followed by Arisawa reappearing with a paper parcel, which he tore open and began to unpack onto the top of one of the boxes.

"I'm presuming, since neither of you are panicking, that this level of unconsciousness is not unusual for a shinigami," Arisawa said laying out gloves, gauze and cotton wool, followed by a flat container and something that looked like a bottle of water.

Renji glanced over at Rukia, who shrugged and said, "The healer who looks after my captain says its natural. So long as it doesn't last too long, its a good survival strategy."

Kira, of course. Renji hadn't considered that Rukia might have picked up some medical knowledge from being around him a lot, but it made sense. "Can you do healing kidō?" he asked, more in hope than expectation.

Rukia rolled her eyes at him. "Do you think I'd still have this if I could?" she said, pointing to the arm she held cradled across her chest. Renji hadn't even noticed it was injured, and she'd grabbed him and Tatsuki with it too, when she'd rescued them from the arrancar. That must have hurt like hell.

"I'll get to you next, young lady, and the restitching after that," Arisawa put in, "In the meantime, if I could have a little space…" He expertly shuffled them out of the way, reaching to swing down a light fitting that Renji hadn't noticed was there. He flicked it on and angled it into Byakuya's face.

Renji immediately averted his gaze; that was way more detail than he wanted to see. Beside him, Rukia had no such problem. She leaned forward, craning her neck, her expression open and curious. Renji decided to watch her instead, it'd be easier on his nerves. He rested his hand on Byakuya's foot, the only part of him he could reach right now, and stroked the bottom of it gently with his thumb, bracing himself for the long haul.

The snap of rubber gloves was soon followed by the gurgle of water sploshing into a container and for long minutes after that, there was only quiet breathing and the almost inaudible sound of the cloth bandages being unwound.

"Strange," Arisawa said eventually.

"What is?" Renji asked. He didn't get an answer, but Rukia's grimace was enough to make him risk a look anyway.

Just like before, the light shone brightly onto Byakuya's face where eyes that were no more than pits of blackish dried blood were set in a sea of scabs and pale skin. It was horrible to look at, but what was strange about it?

Renji inclined his head to try and get a better view, and that was when it hit him. There was no light glinting off the glass. No, scratch that, there was no glass embedded in the wounds at all.

"What the hell?" he murmured in confusion.

Arisawa shot a shrewd glance at him. "I was thinking much the same myself." He picked up a clean piece of cotton wool, soaked it in water and drew it carefully across Byakuya's cheek at a place where Renji _knew _there had been a deep gouge in the skin.

Not anymore. The cotton came away bloodied but the skin beneath was perfect. Not even bruised.

"I don't get it," Rukia said, "If he's not injured, where did all the blood come from?"

That was one Renji could answer. "From him," he said. "Byakuya was definitely hurt. There was glass stuck in his face, I saw it." But how the hell had this happened? Did Byakuya heal himself somehow? Was that why his reiryoku had suddenly nose-dived?

Behind them, someone knocked on the door. Rukia went over to open it and Renji glanced round to see Tatsuki entering, looking tired and drawn, a plastic bag in one hand. She put it down on the other end of the stack of boxes and began pulling out cans and colourful packages that Renji recognised as the ready made onigiri that Byakuya had often brought back from shrines.

"I bought snacks," she said, "And I called mom and dad so they didn't flip out if they'd seen about the apartment block on the news." She glanced at her grandfather, who was still busy cleaning Byakuya up. "They had and they were, so I told them we were at the hospital seeing to a couple of people who got hurt. They said they'd see us later."

"Yes, good, good," Arisawa replied, obviously too distracted to take much notice.

Tatsuki's movements turned jerky and her face tightening like there was more to the conversation than the words. But if there was, Tatsuki kept it to herself, simply watching quietly as Arisawa continued to work. Renji did likewise, his gaze greedily consuming every scrap of unblemished skin that emerged from beneath watery brown blood.

A few moments later, Arisawa stood back from his task, wet bloodied gauze dripping in one hand, and shook his head. "This still makes no sense…"

Still not quite believing it himself, Renji pushed past the old doctor and bent to look properly. This close, the smell of blood was strong. Byakuya's face was still streaked with it, but enough of his skin was clean to see that there wasn't a mark left on him. Not even the faintest trace of a scar.

Renji pressed his forehead to Byakuya's temple and closed his eyes as relief coursed through him. It was shameful to admit, but the truth was, he was shallower than Byakuya. Scars mattered to him, especially those born by the people he'd sworn to protect. Having to see proof of his failure inscribed into Byakuya's face every day for the rest of his life, would destroy Renji as efficiently as a sword through the heart. Renji knew that for a fact.

Somewhere behind him, Arisawa was still speaking. "Could it be some kind of healing magic?"

Renji stirred himself. "That's not healing," he said quietly, giving Arisawa a sidewards glance as he pushed himself upright, his back twinging. "Even Unohana-taichō's kidō leaves scars, and there aren't any. It's like he was never cut at all."

For a second no one spoke, the question of how this could have happened hanging loud on the air, then Tatsuki said, "It's Orihime. That's how she fixes people."

That was the name she called the arrancar, Renji realised, just as Arisawa demanded, "And how would you know something like that?"

"Because she fixed me!" Tatsuki snapped back. "Back when I broke my arm and they said I couldn't fight anymore."

"I don't remember-" Arisawa began.

Tatsuki slammed her can of drink down on the box and glared over her shoulder at her grandfather. "Of course you don't! You were too busy running around all over the country trying to find your friends! Just like you were too busy helping these guys tonight to call mom and dad-!"

Her mouth clamped shut on more words and she turned away, her eyes fluttering closed. When she opened them again, most of the anger had gone. She sighed, turned, and dipped her head respectfully. "I'm sorry, ojii-san, that was uncalled for. I know the Ishida family was important to you. Please forgive me."

Arisawa was silent for a moment before he said, "No, child, I think it's I who owe you the apology. I forget sometimes that my own family also needs me. Tell me, how did she heal you?"

"With the same shield thing she was using on that guy," Tatsuki replied, nodding her head at Byakuya. "And it worked the same way. It wasn't just healing. It was like she reversed time or something, back to before my arm was damaged at all. Even the scars from the surgery vanished."

Like the wounds on Byakuya's face. Renji glanced down at him again, and there it was, not a scar to be seen. Since he didn't how else it could have happened, Renji had no choice but to accept what Tatsuki said. For some reason the arrancar had healed Byakuya while she was draining away his reiryoku.

So why was he still in a healing coma? Was it as simple as him being out of reiryoku?

Renji turned, intending to ask Rukia just how the hell low Byakuya's reiatsu was anyway, only to find her gone.

"Crap! Where did she go?" he demanded, gaze sweeping the room in the vain hope he might have missed her. She was small enough, damn it.

"Rukia?" Tatsuki said with a frown. "She left when I came in. Why?"

Because she'd probably left to go back to Seireitei and report in to her captain, that was why. And who the fuck knew what would happen then. Renji wanted to trust her, he really did, she was Hisana's kid sister, but right now Byakuya was helpless and it was up to Renji to make sure he was safe.

Straightening, he turned to Arisawa and said, "Sensei, we either need to get into that room or get the hell out of here, because when Rukia comes back, she might have an entire army of shinigami with her."

Arisawa's eyes widened, but he didn't argue. Yanking Byakuya's trolley out of the way, he pointed to the boxes against the wall. "Move them, quickly. The access point's behind."

They set to. With Renji and Tatsuki on the job, it was done in double quick time. "This?" Renji was asking minutes later, having dragged the stack of boxes to one side and revealed a wide hatch only about half the height of a normal door.

"Yes. Now let me see if I can remember…" Arisawa edged Renji aside and placed a hand on one of the tiles beside the hatch. For a long moment nothing happened, then the tile glowed a delicate pale blue and the hatch slid aside.

The air that escaped was a little stale and smelt vaguely of chemicals. Renji wrinkled his nose and let Arisawa and Tatsuki go first as he rescued Byakuya from the trolley. He was still deeply unconscious, making Renji's thoughts turn once again to the reason why. He'd never heard of shinigami without life-threatening injuries going into a healing coma. Then again, Renji never claimed to be a healer of any kind. He left things like that to braver people like Kira, and Unohana-taichō.

Still mulling over the possibilities, and with Byakuya once more cradled in his arms, Renji knee-walked through the small entryway, feeling more of the stitches on his back and thighs pull as he over-stretched them - Arisawa was going to kill him for this - and emerged into the biggest dojo he'd ever seen.

"Wow!" The comment escaped before he could stop it. The room was huge, surely way too high to be under the hospital, and dimly lit in shades of blue and grey. All across it, at random intervals, stood pillars and stages of various shapes and heights. If Renji remembered rightly, Quincy originally fought with bow and arrows. This would definitely be a great space to train in that kind of distance weapon.

When Renji got moving again, Arisawa was giving him an understanding look. "It is impressive. I have no idea how Sōken built it, but it's entirely his design. Like so many things." As he spoke, he led the way across the vast space, leaving Tatsuki to close up behind them. Whether or not that would be enough to keep Rukia out, Renji didn't know. He could only be grateful that she hadn't hung around any longer, or else she might have ended up privy to all their secrets. Though she had shared a few of her own.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe Rukia had just popped out to check the arrancar hadn't tracked them down and any moment now she was going to reappear, grumbling at him for running off without her.

Renji cast a hopeful look back towards the entrance, but only was Tatsuki there, kneeling beside the hatch, trying to get it to close.

And once it was closed, then what?

To be honest Renji hadn't actually given the future much thought. Back when they'd first arrived in the living world, he'd been totally dependent on Byakuya, and Byakuya had led them to Karakura. Once they got here, things quickly degenerated into fighting and hiding.

Now though, the slowly disappearing patch of yellow light on the blue-grey wall seemed profound. Like it was the last link to a world that Renji would never see again. Like, even though he'd escaped Shugo, this vast echoing hall was going to be his new prison. Because, if the arrancar was still out there, hunting them, how could they be free?

"In here," Arisawa said, pushing open a door in the wall that Renji hadn't noticed. It took them into another room, larger and better furnished than the one outside, with tatami on the floor, cupboards and bookshelves along one wall, and a low table with a couple of cushions beside it along the other.

It looked kind of like a private room or, Renji thought as Tatsuki came in and Arisawa closed the door behind her, a private jail cell.

He swallowed hard and, even knowing it'd probably look more like a grimace, forced a grin out past his nerves. "Where shall I stick him?"

"There's a futon in the cupboard," Tatsuki said, heading for the back of the room and the two sliding doors. She opened the one on the right and began wrestling a mattress out into the room. It wasn't easy because most of the cupboard was filled with skinned human bodies.

Renji blinked, reassessing what he was seeing. "Gigai?" he said, because really they had to be. Dead humans stored like that would rot.

"'Prosthetic body', yes, what a good way to describe them," Arisawa said.

As Tatsuki triumphed over the futon, Arisawa reached past her and tugged on one of the gigai. It slithered out of the cupboard like it was covered in grease. Maybe he'd been wrong, Renji thought suddenly. Maybe they were human bodies, just preserved somehow.

Unlike the gigai he was used to seeing, which were created to look like the shinigami who would use them, this one, when Arisawa turned it over, was completely blank. Its face had no features, no eyes, mouth or hair, and, apart from the palms of the hands and the soles of feet, it was skinless. Renji covered a shudder of revulsion by turning to lay Byakuya on the bed that Tatsuki had just finished unrolling.

Unfortunately his show of disinterest wasn't enough to silence Arisawa. "I know it looks disconcerting," he continued, "but it actually works extremely well. Or at least Isshin never complained."

Isshin had to have been some kind of saint then, Renji decided as he did his best to arrange Byakuya comfortably on the bed, because the gigai just looked revolting to Renji. He couldn't imagine putting one on.

"The skin grows once the wearer starts inhabiting it. Something to do with their spiritual energy, I think Sōken said."

That made sense. They'd definitely found some way of suppressing Isshin's reiatsu since he'd managed to stay undiscovered for years. If it hadn't been for Ichigo and that monstrous signature of his, the whole family would still be alive and well.

"I suppose it must have failed eventually since you shinigami found him."

Renji's hands froze on Byakuya's arm and he glanced at Arisawa. The old man was sitting beside the gigai, staring down at it sadly.

"You heard that?" Renji asked. He'd really hoped the arrancar's words about who had caught and killed the Kurosaki's had gone over Arisawa's head. Apparently not.

Arisawa didn't answer the question. Instead he looked up at his granddaughter and said, "Tatsuki-chan, I need to treat Abarai-kun's injuries. Could you go keep watch by the door for me, please?"

Tatsuki cast a glance between them, her eyes lingering for a second on Renji's unclothed torso. A slight flush rose on her cheeks and she said hurriedly, "Okay. Just call if you need anything."

As the door closed behind her, Arisawa finally turned to Renji. "Isshin rarely spoke about his home. Most of what I know comes from odd hints he accidentally let drop in conversation, but from what I gleaned, your Soul Society is not a place that values kindness."

In general no, though it had some kind people in it, and Renji felt he should at least attempt to defend his home. He opened his mouth to say something, only for Arisawa to hold up his hand as he continued, "Based on that, if someone had told me before we met that you and Byakuya were behind the Kurosaki family's deaths, I wouldn't just have believed them, I would have thought that you did it out of malice.

"But meeting you changed that." His eyes shifted briefly to Byakuya. "Your captain is a hard man, I think, but fair. He wouldn't kill children without good reason. And you-" Renji found himself subject to that dark too-knowing stare, "You saved me when you didn't have to. Against your captain's orders and at direct risk to your own life. A man like that doesn't lightly kill anyone."

Arisawa settled back on his heels. "So tell me, shinigami, why were Isshin and his family targeted?"

Confronted with such a direct question, Renji found himself answering truthfully, and in more detail than Byakuya would approve of if he was awake. Everything came out. Isshin's relationship to Byakuya, and the crimes he supposedly committed against the Kuchiki. The circumstances of his flight and how Rukia had been the one to notice Ichigo all those years later.

"The kid has really really high spiritual pressure," Renji explained. "Even when he was alive, he was attracting hollows. Hells, that friend of Tatsuki's was probably killed by one of them if they were friends like she seemed to think. His sister, Karin's was high too. She wasn't as powerful as Ichigo at that point, though she was starting to pack a bit of a punch."

As he got on to the next bit, Renji found he couldn't hold the old man's eyes. His gaze dropped to his fingers, now entwined with Byakuya's, their joined hands resting on Byakuya's slowly rising and falling chest. "We couldn't just leave them sending out 'come eat me' signals and leaking spiritual energy over everyone around them, so Byakuya killed them. Cut their soul chains. It was quick. Instant."

But before that, gods, those kids must have been terrified, getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by strangers. And Ichigo, so rabid defending his sisters that he almost damaged himself fighting free of that kidō. At the time, Renji had thought it was funny. Now, it made him feel sick to his stomach. If Arisawa didn't think he and Byakuya were guilty of wronging Ichigo and his family, he was giving them way more credit than they deserved. In retrospect, they should have been a hell of a lot kinder.

"And Yuzu?"

The other sister. The one who hadn't been a threat to anyone. Renji took a deep breath and raised his head. "Her spiritual pressure was almost nothing, but Byakuya thought she'd be better off with her family than left here alone."

Arisawa's chin sank to his chest and his eyes slowly closed as he said, "She wouldn't have been. Even with all her blood family dead, there were still people here who cared about her."

Renji answered that the only way he could. "I'm sorry. We didn't know that at the time." Though even if they had, it probably wouldn't have changed anything.

"And the kindnesses of gods are not to be judged by the living." Arisawa released a long sigh, shook his head and sat up. "A bleak topic for conversation, but I'm glad we had the chance to clear the air." He rose unsteadily to his feet, tottered over to one of the cupboards and pulled open the top drawer. "Now, let's take a look at those injuries of yours before my granddaughter comes back and sees more of you than she already has."

Going by the way Tatsuki had been talking to the arrancar earlier, she probably wouldn't care about seeing Renji in the buff. On the other hand, she'd definitely taken her time checking him out when Arisawa had asked her to leave, so maybe she liked guys as well as women. Either way, she was human and far too young for Renji.

The patch-up job didn't take as long as Renji had feared, and lying on his front next to the futon while Arisawa poked and tutted and stuck him back together again, gave Renji a chance to study Byakuya's face. It was disconcertingly vacant, far more than it would be if he'd just been sleeping. His eyes didn't move beneath their lids, his jaw didn't flex, and no tongue darted out to wet drying lips.

If this went on too long, they'd have to put something on them to stop them cracking, Renji thought. But how long could it go on, now that Byakuya wasn't injured? Surely he should be awake already unless the arrancar had done something else to him.

"Arisawa-san, can you feel Byakuya's reiatsu, his energy signature?"

Firm impersonal hands stilled on Renji's left buttock. "I believe so, why?"

"Describe it to me?" Renji had no idea what he was hoping to hear, Arisawa was no shinigami, but maybe he'd pick up something that'd give Renji a clue as to what was going on.

Arisawa hummed quietly and started working again, spraying a line of cold stinging numbness across Renji's thigh. After a moment, he said, "It reminds me of fog or smoke or maybe breath on a cold winter's day. Hardly there at all before it disappears."

That was to be expected, Renji guessed. Unconscious, Byakuya wouldn't be able to contain his reiryoku enough to allow it to quickly build up pressure, but it'd happen eventually as his levels rose enough to compensate… for natural… leakage…

"Shit!" Renji snarled and sprung to his knees, ignoring Arisawa's yelp and the clatter of him dropping something. "He's never gonna be able to raise his levels because the reishi density here's too damn low! Crap it all, I am too dumb live!" He dove for Byakuya's chest, pressing his hand flat and feeling the steady beat of his heart. Was it slower than earlier? He couldn't tell, but probably.

"Abarai-kun?" Arisawa queried from behind.

Renji glanced over his shoulder. "He's bleeding out. Leaking all his reiryoku as soon as his body makes it. There's not enough spirit particles in this world to stop it happening and he's too weak to stop it himself. If we don't do something, he'll die." If that didn't make enough sense then Renji didn't know what would.

Something seemed to get through. Arisawa's brow crinkled as he frowned. "Leaking spiritual energy? That's easy to stop. Just put him in-"

"A gigai," Renji finished for him, his gaze flicking over to the skinless monstrosity now sitting leaning against the wall. It didn't matter how ugly it was, if it stopped Byakuya dying, it would do.

He didn't have to give Arisawa instructions. The old man was moving almost before Renji had finished speaking, grabbing the gigai by the feet and yanking it flat onto the floor. Renji picked Byakuya up, carried him over to it and then stopped, staring down at the gigai, because how the hell was he supposed to put Byakuya into it when he was unconscious?

"I suggest you lie him on top of the body and let it adhere naturally," Arisawa said, his voice careful.

It wasn't like they had anything to lose. Renji knelt beside the gigai and lowered Byakuya carefully down on top of it. For a second, after Renji released him, Byakuya simply balanced there, almost like another gigai himself, and then he slowly began to sink into the greasy looking mass of skinless muscle.

"You sure this is gonna work?" Renji hissed, fingernails digging into his palms as he fought the urge to reach out and drag Byakuya clear of the strange material.

Arisawa's voice was full of ironclad surety when he answered, "Sōken was an excellent designer. He would have made his prosthetic bodies capable of dealing with this sort of emergency."

When Byakuya's perfect face began to disappear behind skinless muscle and tissue, Renji shuddered and had to look away. It was like watching someone get sucked into quick sand and being told it was for their own good. If this went wrong, if Byakuya died because of something he'd done-

"It's working," Arisawa said.

Renji wrenched his gaze back round to find skin beginning to form over the outside of the gigai. Pale and fragile and new, it spread from the hands and feet like ice crystals forming on the surface of a lake. It would take time, but eventually the whole thing would be covered.

Arisawa puffed out a breath, and continued, "His signature's disappeared."

For a second all Renji could think was that that was bad, then he put the two halves of what Arisawa was saying together. If Byakuya's reiatsu was gone, the gigai had to be containing the leak. And if it was containing the leak, and always presupposing that Renji hadn't got things completely wrong, then this was going to work. Byakuya would wake up. Probably fairly soon.

And when he did, he'd be free to leave this place and start living his new life as a human, like Isshin had all those years ago. While Renji was trapped in here, or worse, fated to follow him around like a ghost, only visible to a small handful of the population and unable to do anything for himself.

"There are more of them," Arisawa said quietly, apparently able to read Renji's mind.

At his words, Renji glanced over at the cupboard, now closed, and thought about the tangled mass of limbs and torsos inside. Would this type of gigai even stick to him? And if the growth of the skin relied on leaking reiatsu, and Renji didn't have any to leak, what then? Would it stay skinless and disgusting? What if he got trapped in it? At least as a ghost, he would be able to go outside. As a skinless monster, he'd have no choice but to stay in here for the rest of eternity.

While Byakuya slowly drifted away from him, caught up in a new life with humans who could talk and touch and eat and love.

"You don't have to make a decision now. Take a while to think about it." Arisawa's hand came to rest briefly on Renji's head. Renji closed his eyes, took a breath and nodded. "And in the meantime," Arisawa continued, "I will go and get some much needed sleep."

Rousing himself, Renji said, "You need the futon, sensei?"

"No, thank you," Arisawa replied heading towards the door. "There's other places I can rest these old bones. Make yourself comfortable and enjoy your time alone together."

As the door closed behind him, Renji turned back to Byakuya. Skin now covered most of his face and, as Renji watched, Byakuya's features slowly began to emerge from the blankness of the gigai. That, or the gigai molded itself more closely around him.

Whichever it was, this technology was definitely a hell of a lot different from the bulky ill-fitting things shinigami normally got given. Using one of those was like operating a full-body puppet. It let you eat and talk to humans okay, but you couldn't feel things the same way could in spirit form, and Renji had never heard of anyone who'd tried to have sex in them. He'd sometimes wondered how Isshin had managed to father three kids on a human. Now he had his answer.

"I guess he really fell on his feet when he met this Sōken guy," Renji said out loud as he settled down beside the futon. Byakuya's fingers twitched slightly, as though he'd heard Renji's voice, and Renji couldn't keep the grin from his face. He'd been right. This was going to work. "There you go, what'd I tell you. Another couple of hours and you'll be up and about again."

He reached out and took Byakuya's hand in his own, stroking his thumb over the fake skin. It was warm but a bit too smooth compared to Byakuya's usual sword-calluses. Maybe they'd grow in with the rest of him, along with his hair and eyelashes.

Then he'd be complete, ready to move on and leave Renji behind.

Maybe Renji should let him. This was the chance Byakuya had been hoping for when he'd brought them to Karakura. The same chance Isshin had been given and had used to build himself a new life in the living world. Without Renji, Byakuya could do the same.

It'd be easy to convince him, Renji was sure of it. For all he claimed to love Renji, he'd get over him fast enough, move on, find another partner, have kids maybe. Build a completely human future that wasn't held back by a half-neutered monster in a badly fitting meatsuit.

If Renji was unselfish enough to let him go.

His fingers tightened on Byakuya's and slowly, he lifted Byakuya's hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to warm living skin that was even starting to smell right.

"Sorry," he breathed, dropping his head forward so now their hands were pressed to his forehead. "I know I should be strong enough, but I can't. You made me leave you once, and now I've got you back, I'm not ever letting you go again."

Even if it meant risking the gigai?

Renji huffed, lifted his head and studied his and Byakuya's joined hands in minute detail for a long moment. Because that wasn't just his decision. Byakuya might have pooh-poohed the idea that Zabimaru was still there, but Renji knew differently. He had heard them, he was sure of it, which meant anything he did now wasn't just going to effect him, it'd effect them as well.

Finally, he cast his mind inward and asked, silently, _So, what do you think? Reckon I should do it?_

No answer came, not that Renji was expecting one. After listening to the silence for as long as he could stand it, Renji put his head down, closed his eyes, and a moment later, he was asleep.

He woke to the drone of mosquitoes and the sound of heavy rain on earthen tile. Renji blinked blearily at the roughly boarded ceiling and tried to work out where in hell's name he was. Not Karakura Hospital, that was for sure. He'd have remembered if the safe-room had a leaky roof.

Somewhere close-by, girls' voices were singing about flowers and the wind, the song accompanied by rhythmic clapping, and that was what clued him in. They were playing the bean bag game, and there was only one place that Renji knew of in Soul Society where kids played such simple games. The camps.

He was moving before he really thought about it, and at the open door a moment later. Sure enough, three small girls were playing otedama on the porch and, beyond them, visible through the slatted shutter, stretched a familiar mud-puddled yard. Senjōchi Camp, the ramshackle feeding station built on the banks of the Inuzuri river, and catering to the spiritually gifted kids of south quadrant's five highest districts. This was the place Renji had spent most of his formative years and the one that, as far as anywhere could be, was Renji's original home.

So what was he doing back here now?

The rain grew heavier. A sudden brilliant flash was followed by a loud crack of thunder and the tall tree beside the bath-house shattered into a smoking ruin. The girls screamed and ran for cover, passing straight through Renji, which, he guessed, answered one question. He wasn't actually here. This had to be a dream.

A very vivid one, he thought, watching as outside, a uniformed guard, with his cloak held over his head, sprinted from one side of the yard to the other and disappeared into the administration block. A few moments later, the front doors of the block opened again, disgorging more of the camp's staff, all weighted down with bags and boxes. For a moment they struggled to organise themselves, then without looking back, they all stepped into shunpo and vanished.

With a sudden visceral understanding, Renji knew exactly what was happening here.

"Run!" he yelled, turning on the girls still huddled in the corner of the hut, crying. "Run! Now!" But they couldn't hear him.

He lunged for them, meaning to scoop them up and carry them away, but his arms passed right through them, no more substantial than smoke. The next moment, the rear of the hut disintegrated in the face of a three foot wall of water and debris, which hit Renji like a battering ram, sweeping his feet out from under him.

The girls were gone in an instant, and in another Renji was down and drowning, struggling to grab something, anything, that might save his life. Water, black with mud and lethal with debris, churned around him. His hakama twisted around his legs, stopping him from kicking. He fought for the surface with arms alone and won, just in time to see another small body sweep past him. He reached for it, but again his hand went straight through.

Screaming incoherent frustration at the world, Renji flailed after it, because how could he not touch them when the same water was killing them both. The child caught on a log. Renji grabbed for a handhold, snagged a branch and dragged himself close enough to try again. As he did, the child's body turned in the water, and he could see that he was too late. The boy was dead. And by the looks of the gash on his head, had not even drowned.

Renji swung a punch at the branch and it slipped through his fingers. He made no attempt to grab it again, some part of him convinced that, if he couldn't save the children, he didn't deserve to save himself.

As the water swept him under, it occurred to him that thinking that was probably really dumb, but by then it was too late. The current had him and it wasn't letting go. Branches, rocks, wreckage from the camp's huts, all eluded him, passing by too fast for him to grasp or too far away for him to reach. The smaller, useless stuff, battered him in a constant barrage of stinging, bruising collisions.

Still, he fought the water and the rubbish, stamina born of long years training now standing him in good stead to keep his head above the raging torrent at least long enough to gasp for breath.

Chance succeeded where even instinct failed. The current finally slammed him back first into a massive rock and Renji had just enough air and sense left to cling on, letting the force of the water lift him so he could heave himself up onto safe ground.

Safer ground, he thought, once he got his breath back and looked around. Debris-choked floodwaters stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. He was on top of one of a handful of massive rocks that dotted the lower reaches of the river valley. Isolated and oddly shaped, no one knew how they'd got there, though Renji'd once heard a tale that they'd fallen all the way from the Soul King's palace when the walls had been knocked down. That seemed a bit far fetched. More likely some shinigami had thrown them there while training.

Either way, the rocks were few in number and too far apart to jump between. And anyway, the water level was still rising. If Renji remembered rightly from the first time around, only the tops of the very tallest trees, like the ones poking out of the torrent about half a mile downstream, had been high enough to escape it. And dream or not, this danger had proved itself very real. If he was going to survive, he needed to move.

Wringing filthy water from his hakama, he peered upstream. What he needed was something big enough that he might survive clinging to it for long enough to reach the trees. Most of the wreckage in the water was way too small, but… Renji's gaze lit on the roof of the admin block, the most solidly built structure in the entire camp, far in the distance but racing towards him. It was going to pass close, but not close enough. Renji was going to have to jump to reach it, and if he timed it wrong, he was screwed. Which meant the hakama were going to have to go.

His hand dropped instinctively to his asauchi, miraculously still attached to the obi. If he stripped, he'd lose the sword and that sounded like a really crap idea. So he was going to have be more creative. Drawing the blade, he quickly sliced up both legs of the hakama, pulled the loose cloth out in front of him and lopped it off. Now he had a belt with a skirt, but at least there was nothing to get tangled around his legs while he was jumping.

Done, he sheathed the sword and retreated to the far edge of the rock, looking for maximum run-up. And only just in time. The building was hurtling downstream, its speed seeming to increase as it came closer.

Wait… Wait…. Another second… Now! Renji sprinted for the gap. At the last moment, he put everything he had into the jump. Air rushed past him, death churned below, and then smack! He hit the roof, chest and legs first, chin second, hands scrabbling for a hold as the impact and added weight caused the building to wallow deeper into the water.

Panting, he dragged himself up the roof and mounted astride the apex, the position bringing back horrible memories of riding that twin-headed hollow up into the skies above Matsuyama. Hopefully this adventure would have a better outcome, though right now he'd settle for survival.

The stand of trees rushed towards him at top speed. No sooner had he got his breath back than he had to leap again, and this one was going to be far harder. At least with the rock, he'd had a solid base to jump off. This time he had no such luxury. As he stood, the roof yawed beneath his feet, pitching him forwards into a stumble.

With a skill born from years of training, Renji turned it into a run and launched himself off the floating death-trap. Branches flew up to meet him. He grabbed and missed, grabbed again and this time got a decent handhold. Yelling defiance, he hauled himself upward with one arm, the other flailing to find something else solid he could anchor himself to.

What he found, was a hand. Small, but strong, it clutched his fingers and guided them quickly down onto a solid narrow branch. Renji curled his fingers around it and with sheer main strength and bloody mindedness, dragged himself to safety.

He damn nearly fell back off the branch when he saw who'd rescued him. From the thin end of the branch, red brown eyes stared at him out of a pale face, framed with bright red hair. Renji stared back in total shock before barking, "What the hell? You're me!" At about Yachiru's age going by the size of him. Gods, had he ever been that small?

"Well, duh," his younger self said. "Who else was going to be able to touch you. Good jump, by the way. I thought you were going to miss and drown."

Apparently his younger self was channelling Ichigo. Renji glared at him - at himself - and then gave up. Fighting with himself, especially when the kid was shivering and almost blue with cold, seemed dumb. Working together, they stood a much better chance of surviving.

The water was still rising, creeping up the trunk. Soon it'd reach even these branches. They needed to climb higher. No, Renji needed to climb higher, and help his younger self do the same.

"Up," he said, jerking his thumb towards the branch above them. "I'll give you a boost."

The kid stared at him, and then away, his chin wobbling as bravado gave way to real fear. Because he couldn't move, Renji realised. Black lines, that Renji had mistaken for shadows, actually sprouted from the kid's torso, and were tying him to the narrow branch. It was weird, but no weirder than other things Renji had seen in dreams.

Other threads dangled from the kid, leading down into the water below. As Renji watched, they snatched on passing debris, making the branch bounce. Anything too strong and it'd snap right off, and Renji'd give the kid all of two seconds if he fell into that raging torrent.

Whatever the cords were, they had to go and by the looks of them, that wasn't gonna be easy.

"Just hold still," Renji said, inching along the branch, which dipped alarmingly under his weight. Once he'd gone as far as he dared, he drew the asauchi - good thing he hadn't decided to dump it - and leaned in. He was going to have to do this at full stretch.

The expression of utter trust on this younger self's face was humbling. Renji took a breath and began.

The lines parted under the tip of his blade like shadows before light, but more than that, as soon as they were the cut, the edges began to shrivel, curling back on themselves and speeding the whole process up exponentially. Renji had the kid free in less than two minutes. And none too soon. Small fingers turned white as the kid clung to the branch with only his own failing strength. Renji would have gone closer to grab him, except he had a bad feeling the branch was almost at breaking point already.

"C'mere," Renji said, sheathing his asauchi and holding out a steady hand. "Carefully, I'll catch ya." His younger self crawled clumsily along the branch, and then launched himself into Renji's arms.

As they touched, Renji thought he heard the distant roar of a nue…

Except nue didn't normally throw hakama at people. Or yell in Tatsuki's voice about stupid men sleeping naked.

Renji had never moved so fast in his life. Leaping to his feet, he snatched up the hakama, clutched them to his groin to cover his modesty, and in a voice that was in no way a squeak, demanded, "What the hell, woman! Knock before you walk into places!"

"I did, so how about you don't lie around with no pants on!" Tatsuki shot back, but at least had the decency to turn around, giving Renji the chance to wrestle himself into shape.

As he was doing that, he realised that certain parts of Byakuya had pushed their way to the surface of the gigai, which was now fully formed and completely naked. "Damn it, tell me there's a blanket here somewhere," he muttered, still struggling to shrug off the remnants of the dream. Rescuing his younger self? Definitely a weird one.

"Cupboard," Tatsuki replied, pointing without turning around. "Which you'd know if you were halfway civilised."

Renji glowered at her back as he dug out a couple of blankets. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"Bringing food." Tatsuki rattled the carrier bag she was holding. "Ojii-san thought you might want to eat."

There'd been fresh onigiri in the stuff she'd brought in earlier. For once, that actually sounded pretty damn good. How long had they been asleep anyway. Going by how well Byakuya had merged with the gigai, a while.

Distracted by the idea of food, Renji pulled the wrong thing and immediately got dive-bombed by a gigai that slithered out on top of him. He managed to catch it, though the thing slid through his hands like a dead fish, and when he tried to shove it back onto the shelf, it clung to him like spider's web.

He growled at it, peeling free first one hand, and then the other. Unsupported, the gigai dropped the rest of the way to the floor, landing with a dull thud. Where Renji had touched it, the surface was changing colour, from the deep red brown of bare muscle to a kind of dirty grey. "I made it go mouldy?" Renji murmured, but even as he spoke he realised he was wrong. That wasn't mould, that was the gigai's version of skin, or the beginnings of it.

As he watched, it faded away back to nothing, but it was enough that it had happened at all. Because it meant that it wasn't just Byakuya who had a chance at a new life here. Renji did too.

He glanced down at Byakuya, his mind starting to thrum with possibilities. If the gigai worked, there was nothing stopping him from taking one and walking out. Nothing stopping him from leaving. Nothing stopping him from being, for the very first time in his adult life, a free man.

Byakuya had already said he wasn't Renji's captain any longer, and here in the human world, being head of the Kuchiki clan didn't mean a damn thing. There were no guards, no servants, no soldiers to do Byakuya's bidding. He couldn't force Renji to come back to him if Renji didn't want to.

_If Renji didn't want to._ Tumbling thought processes slid into silence, because there was the rub. That man, snoring there on the futon, wasn't just Renji's captain or his lord, and hadn't been for a very very long time. And though it was true that you could outrun a lot of things, love was different. It always seemed to find a way of catching you up.

Reaching out, Renji grabbed a blanket from the shelf and tossed it over Byakuya. Then, pulling another over himself, settled on one hip beside the sleeping man. Byakuya immediately curled into Renji's side, grumbling slightly and pinning him in place with a hug that had Renji smiling down at him. How could he not love someone who was that damned cute? And how could he not want them to stay together for as long as they possibly could, whatever this new future held.

He couldn't. No more than he could have let Byakuya walk into that future without him. Call it weakness, call it love. Maybe it was both. Renji didn't care. The only thing that would make it perfect would be if he could find some way for Ichigo to join them. And if it that made him selfish, then he'd just have to be the most selfish man in the world.

"Okay, we're decent," he announced, running a hand through long silky hair and resisting the urge to press his face into it.

Tatsuki spun, her scowl turning to a confused frown and then a slight flush as she took in the scene. But only for a second. Scowl firmly back in place, she stomped across the room and dumped the bag on the table. "Ojii-san said to ask if you needed anything else."

Hand still tangled in Byakuya's hair, Renji glanced over at the gigai and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Tell him I made up my mind. I'm ready to take the plunge whenever he is."


	20. Here Comes Rain

They both reeled through the door, too exhausted to do more than stumble for the two unoccupied chairs. Karin slumped into one, immediately tipping her head back and gusting out a relieved sigh. Yasutora collapsed into the other, and had to resist the urge to put his head down on the desk and sleep. Or maybe cry. Despite the sun being high in the sky, they still weren't done.

"How's it going?" Hisana asked, watching them from the other side of her desk, lips pulled into a tight smile. The desk between them was piled with paperwork. Being lieutenant, Hisana had twin jobs of co-ordinating the rescue effort and reorganising the 6th to deal with the sudden influx of people, and going by the thickness of those piles, Yasutora did not envy her the tasks in the slightest.

Karin stirred tiredly, opening her eyes to look at Hisana. "As per orders, the third training hall is now a temporary field hospital. Space is no longer an issue, thank crap." She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Now if we could just magic up some more medics, we'd be good." From the wrists up, her skin was streaked with blood, and worse, from where she'd been helping the 6th's overworked healers with triage.

"The 13th have healers?" Yasutora asked, because some of them had to at least have some kind of field training. As far as he could tell, all the uninjured refugees had done so far was bicker amongst themselves, and complain about the accommodations. Which seemed a bit rich considering they'd just been rescued from certain death by the ones providing it. Gratitude, like generosity and compassion, was a rare virtue amongst shinigami, it seemed.

Hisana shook her head, gaze returning to the topmost sheet of her papers. "No," she said dismissively, brush flicking across the page. "Apart from the 4th, the 6th are the only division to have trained medics. Most don't bother. It's too expensive."

She didn't seem about to add anything more, so Yasutora looked to Karin for an explanation. "What if their people get hurt?" he asked.

"Far as I can tell, officers get taken to the 4th's hospital. The others either get over it or die." Karin's face drew down into a crumpled sort of frown. "It's barbaric."

"But efficient," Hisana added. "With so many recruits coming through, it's in a division's best interests to lose some of their number through natural wastage or they end up badly over-crowded."

That seemed about par for the course for the Gotei. Though, recalling the packed barrack-rooms of the 6th and Hisana's row with Ichigo over rations, Yasutora thought maybe he understood the logic of the policy, if not the sentiment. And it wasn't so different to the attitudes held by a lot of people in the living world, even if they wouldn't put it the same way Hisana had.

Apparently Karin wasn't prepared to give it even that much consideration. Rolling her head tiredly towards Hisana, she said, "Yeah, well, we're not one of those divisions, and there's more injured than our guys can deal with, so what're we going to do?"

"Nothing," Hisana said. "There's nothing we can do, because the only other source of medics is the 4th, and there aren't nearly enough funds in the division's coffers to pay for the half a dozen professional healers that we need to come here even for a single shift, let alone several days."

"Screw that. Ichi-nii'll throw a fit!" Karin protested, jerking upright in her seat.

Hisana looked unmoved. "Then your brother can make that decision when he returns. In the meantime, I am in charge and I'm not prepared to leave everyone else, 6th and ex-13th alike, going hungry in the long term just to relieve a few people's pain."

"That's… You can't…" Karin sputtered, until finally exploding, "You bitch!" Her fist thumped onto the top of the desk. "How can you say that! People are going to die!"

"Kurosaki-goseki!" Hisana snapped, her eyes flashing and her voice suddenly carrying the distinct tone of command.

At the sound of it, Karin subsided back into her chair, though her expression was still furious.

Hisana put her brush down, rested her hands in front of her and levelled a look at Karin. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet but firm and Yasutora suddenly realised that, for all her tiny stature and youthful features, Hisana had a lot of experience under her belt. "You were helping triage. Tell me, what happened to those who had life threatening injuries?"

"Main hospital block," Karin replied, folding her arms across her chest. "And the next lot down got sent to the temporary one." She huffed. "Okay, so no one who's at death's door's going to be ignored, but a lot of the ones in training hall three were really badly hurt. Burns, broken bones-"

"Which can be treated with splints and dressings by their comrades, just as they would be in the field. They are no worse off, Karin, and if they develop complications, they can be transferred to the main hospital then. In the meantime, as I said before, the division will struggle enough to feed everyone with this sudden new influx of people." She picked her brush up again, apparently done with the conversation.

"Ah, screw this," Karin muttered, just quietly enough to be ignored, and stood up. "What's next?" she asked.

Hisana gave her calculating look, but didn't call her on the attitude. "We need more help," she said. "It's not only our medics who are over-stretched, the cooks are run off their feet and food prep's not the sort of thing you can throw just anyone at. Can you see if there's anyone on your brother's household staff who might be willing to muck-in for a few days? For free preferably, since they'll still be being paid their regular wage."

Without turning to face Hisana, and with her hands tightly fisted at her sides, Karin nodded. "Yeah, okay. Anything else?"

"Check on Take, since she's still over at the estate overseeing the rebuilding of the wall. Apart from that, no, the pair of you can get some sleep, since I'm sure you'll want to be back here by dawn."

For Ichigo's return. Although no one had mentioned it out loud, Yasutora could tell that everyone was worried Ichigo wouldn't make it back. And it was making everyone snappish and short-tempered. Sleep seemed unlikely to happen for any of them until they knew.

There was one other thing too. As Karin stalked towards the door, Yasutora turned to Hisana and said, "What's the answer, if people ask about Ichigo?"

Hisana's head jerked up, and she met his gaze with a frown. "Has anyone asked?"

"No," Karin replied before Yasutora could. "Or not in so many words. People are wondering where he is though. And Sado being out wandering around isn't helping."

Hisana's expression grew bleak. "Agreed. Sado-san, please return to the house and keep a low profile. Karin, if anyone asks you about the captain, send them to me." Her lips tightened as she returned to her work. "I'll deal with them."

* * *

They found Take supervising the large team of shinigami rebuilding the wall between the Shiba estate and the road. An equally large group were busy doing the same on the 13th's side, the two groups trading barbed insults as they worked.

"If they spent as much time stacking stone as they do shouting, we'd be done by now," Take complained when Karin and Yasutora dropped by to check everything was going okay.

Yasutora had been all set to go straight back to the house, but Karin hadn't given him the chance, heading directly for Take instead. Since Take knew where Ichigo was, Yasutora supposed it wouldn't do any harm for her to see him out and about now. He did stay back behind the two women and try to look inconspicuous though, just in case anyone else recognised him as Shiba-taichō's 'new boyfriend'.

"You've got our guys and the newbies working together," Karin said, peering down the slope at the labouring shinigami, surrounded by what looked like a cloud of steam as they built up a sweat in the chill temperatures.

Take's mouth quirked at one corner. "I'd call 'em volunteers, except it'd be a lie. Mostly they're the ones with a bad attitude. Can't having them fighting, so working it out of 'em seems like the best idea."

"There's been trouble?" Karin asked. At Take's 'are you serious?' look, she added defensively, "We've been up to our eyeballs organising quarters and care for the injured, okay. Hashigami and Koniwa were supposed to be handling the internal stuff."

"Koniwa?" Take scoffed. "He's probably behind half of it, stirring little windbag."

"A windbag who's third seat and not afraid to use it," Karin pointed out. "Unless you've got evidence, you probably ought to be careful saying stuff like that about him. Even private conversations can be overheard."

Take took the admonishment with no more than a nod and slight tightening of her lips. "Anyway," she went on, "so far, trouble's been restricted to these hotheads." She waved a hand indicating the lines of shinigami passing blocks of stone from the piles that still more shinigami were building from collecting the rubble left over after Hisana blew the walls. "But it ain't gonna stop there if things don't get straightened out dead quickly. Well, either that or a firm hand ta knock some sense into 'em." She looked almost wistful for a moment before shaking her head and continuing, "And since taichō ain't around no more, your brother needs to get his ass back here asap."

"He'll be here tomorrow," Karin said firmly, "is there anything else you need?"

Having been told there wasn't, Karin and Yasutora took their leave and set off back up the hill. At walking speed, which at this point Yasutora was actually pretty grateful for. He could have shunpo'd if necessary, but a decent meal and a few hours sleep would make it much less painful.

They were halfway to the Shiba house when two figures stepped out of shunpo in front of them. One was Koniwa, his face beetroot red with fury. The other was Shin, who looked like a man who'd reached the end of his tether several hours ago.

"There you are!" Koniwa yelled, the moment he spotted Yasutora. "I knew I'd seen you!" He strode over and jabbed Yasutora in the chest with his finger. "Now where's the captain, that's what I want to know!" Yasutora stared down at him, not sure how to handle this sudden strange assault, and rather hoping Karin would sort it out.

She did. "If you want to know, go ask Hisana. She's in her office," she said.

Koniwa spun on her next. "That is no way to address a superior officer, Kurosaki-goseki," he snapped, then his face took on a more devious cast. "Or am I speaking to Shiba Karin-sama right now." It wasn't even a question. He was just letting them know that he'd seen through what Yasutora had to admit was a pretty fragile deception.

"You're speaking to a loyal officer of the 6th, though I'm starting to wonder about you," Karin shot back as she stalked on up the hill.

Koniwa followed her, his longer legs keeping up easily. Yasutora and Shin exchanged glances and fell in a small distance behind them. "Sorry about this," Shin whispered after a couple of moments listening to Koniwa harangue Karin about Ichigo's whereabouts and the 'dire situation' brewing amongst the troops.

Yasutora shook his head. It wasn't Shin's fault, he was sure of it. Koniwa wasn't even supposed to be at the house. His duties should have kept him down at divisional headquarters.

"He just turned up," Shin continued. "Started carryin' on like he owned the place. Wouldn't take no for an answer when I told him he couldn't come in, and started spewing all sorts of wild shit." His voice dropped further. "I think he's got it into his head that something's happened to his lordship, like he's being held prisoner up here or somethin'."

By whom? Yasutora thought, grunting his disbelief at anyone managing to hold Ichigo if he wanted to get free.

Shin, whose gaze hadn't shifted from Koniwa's back as they walked, shook his head, frowning. "I dunno, but I got bad feeling he's not done stirring it, you know."

That sounded serious. Yasutora gave the idea and its source careful consideration. As an ex-informant, Shin was probably a reliable at sniffing out trouble. On the other hand, he did have a reputation for manipulating information for his own benefit.

Then again, Ichigo has trusted him with the plan, and not Koniwa, which probably said more about Ichigo than Shin, but still. "You should tell Karin," Yasutora said finally, keeping his voice down too. "Or Sagara-fukutaichō."

Shin's gaze shot up to meet Yasutora's. "Can't you?" he asked, his thin face pulling into a worried grimace. "I don't think they trust me. Not really."

Yasutora shook his head. "I have to stay here. But if I can, I'll tell Karin before she leaves. You should go see the lieutenant."

Shoulders slumping, Shin nodded. "Yeah, I guess yer right. Was just hoping to avoid the division with all that new blood around."

Yasutora didn't blame him. The rank and file despised Shin, treating him with a contempt and viciousness that more often than not edged into bullying, and Yasutora hated bullies. He would have cracked a few heads on Shin's behalf, except the only time he'd offered, Shin had told him no and had walked on past with quiet jeers following him. Whatever Shin might have been, these days at least, he wasn't a coward, so if he didn't fancy going up to headquarters, he must have a good idea what sort of welcome was waiting for him.

"Tell Take?" Yasutora suggested.

Shin perked up at that idea. "Maybe," he said, but anything he might have added was lost when Koniwa suddenly yelled, "Then I'll go and speak to her myself!" and shunpo'd off.

Once he'd gone, Karin waited for the others to catch up, greeting them with a rueful smile. "He's going to speak to Hisana, which I think was what I told him to do to start with," she said. "But nooo, he had to be a smart-ass about it first." She rubbed her face with both hands, looking even more exhausted than before. "Okay, next stop kitchens. Or, Shin, maybe you could handle that? Hisana needs extra hands for the division's kitchens, can you dig a few people out and send them down?"

"Oh yeah, no problem. I should have thought of it meself," Shin said, with a dipping bow. "Erm, I…" His gaze shot nervously to Yasutora. "I'd better go then. You can handle the rest, yeah?"

Telling Karin about Koniwa's paranoia? Yasutora nodded, earning himself a grateful grin, and Shin was soon shunpo'ing off up the hill towards the house. Rather than follow him, Karin stared out over Seireitei. Clouds were beginning to mass on the horizon, and Yasutora wondered briefly if they might bring snow. It was definitely cold enough.

"I don't like this," Karin said out of nowhere.

That was probably as good an opening as he was ever going to get. "Shin said that Koniwa thinks Ichigo's a prisoner in the house," Yasutora told her.

"Seriously?" Karin replied, eyebrows shooting up as she turned look after the vanished third seat. After a second, she shrugged, "That'd explain some of his comments." Silence fell once again. From behind them came the sound of raised voices, muted by distance. Probably Take shouting at her team. Or her team shouting at the 13th. There definitely seemed to be a lot of bad blood between the different factions, and it made Yasutora wonder if there were similar fracture-lines festering beneath the surface of the 6th as well.

He was just about to ask, when Karin suddenly announced, "I want you to go find Ichigo."

Surprise made him grunt slightly. He frowned. If she really thought trouble was about to blow up, no way was Yasutora leaving her here alone. "Send Shin."

Karin glanced up at him and rolled her eyes. "He's busy. And you're supposed to be out of sight anyway." Yasutora gave her a sceptical look and she huffed, "You don't have to fetch him back right now, just…" she waved a hand, "Don't let him hang around gossiping afterwards."

That made more sense. "Okay," Yasutora agreed, and had another thought, "Where is he?"

"Don't worry about that, I'll drop you off on the way," Karin replied, reaching out and grabbing Yasutora by the arm before he could ask, 'on the way to where?'

The world shifted around him and the next moment they were beyond the gates of the Shiba estate. Yasutora hung on, knowing better than to resist as Karin dragged him across Seireitei far faster than he could have managed it alone. Roofs, alleys, houses and gardens all sped past and, as they travelled, it soon became obvious that each long step of shunpo was taking them closer and closer to Sōkyoku Hill.

Just as Yasutora thought they were going to end up running into the base of the massive rock, Karin leapt for the side, hopping up the sheer side like she knew the exact location of every foothold. About twenty feet from the top, she stopped on a small overhang that had, of all things, a wooden door set into the cliff face.

"In there," she said, pointing. "There's a sleeping mat on the floor and below it's a trapdoor. Ichigo'll be inside." She frowned. "You might want to yell or something before you go down though. I mean, he's with Urahara and that guy's just creepy weird."

That wasn't exactly reassuring. The advice was useful though, and appreciated. Yasutora nodded his thanks.

"Right," Karin said, "I'll see you later, I guess." And with a determined nod, she shunpo'd away.

Yasutora turned to the door, and suddenly realised that she'd not given him a chance to ask his question again, so he still had no idea where she was going. Nor had she stayed long enough to find out if her brother was okay. Was it fear of finding out the worst or faith in Ichigo's ability to survive? At this point Yasutora wasn't sure what he felt himself.

He found the trap door exactly where Karin said it was and pried it open. The stream of daylight that poured out was surprising, the sounds of fighting that came with it, surprisingly reassuring. Ichigo was still alive. Yasutora had all of about a second to feel relieved before the air in front of him displaced as someone stepped out of shunpo, and steel caressed his throat. He froze.

"Who are you and what are doing here?" the shinigami holding the sword, demanded. He stood, one foot each side of the entrance to the underground, balanced across it, his posture making the precarious position look as immovable as the hill itself.

Having half-expected a greeting like this after Karin's warning, Yasutora slowly straightened up, raising his hands clear of the sword through his belt, and said, "I'm a friend of Ichigo's. Sado Yasutora."

"Sado?" The briefest of frowns skittered across the man's face before thin lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "You're Chad," he purred. The blade dropped, and so did the guy's gaze, stripping Yasutora from neck to knees as it moved slowly down his body. "My, my, Shiba-kun does have remarkably good taste."

Oh, the guy was one of those. Yasutora raised his chin, set his eyes on nothing and bore the attention impassively. Being regarded as a piece of meat, or a beast to be ridden, went hand in hand with being a fighter in the Pits, and you didn't survive long if you didn't learn to put up with it. The ones like Ichigo, full of spit and fire and pride, were always the first to fall. Yasutora had learnt years ago to pick his battles.

"But not just a set of well-developed muscles, I think," the shinigami continued, all the flutter and flirt suddenly gone from his voice. "Tell me, did you come to inform Ichigo that you'd achieved shikai?"

Yasutora's gaze jerked down so fast his neck hurt. How had this man known? Yasutora had released his zanpakutō for the first time only a few hours ago. Had word got out already?

Astute grey-green eyes peered up at him from behind blond bangs styled into some kind of permanent looking hat hair. "No answer for me? Well, you don't have to decide yet. Just remember that folks outside the Gotei don't have zanpakutō. A stupid conceit, grant you, but one some people seem determined to enforce." And with that, the shinigami turned and dropped down into the hole.

Yasutora stared after him. Was that Urahara, or some kind of guard? His haori was dark green, not white, the shihakushō beneath it creased enough that he might have slept in it, and there was at least a couple of days stubble on his chin. But that voice, once the affectation was gone, there had been authority in it, the words clever and knowing. Though what he'd said hadn't sounded like a threat. More like a warning, if anything.

For now, Yasutora decided, he'd treat this man like he was captain of the 2nd. Maybe he'd find out for sure later. From Ichigo. Who was definitely alive!

Feeling suddenly much more confident, Yasutora followed his scruffy unkempt host below, a single step of shunpo taking him easily to the floor where sandy earth crunched beneath his feet. The shinigami stood waiting next to a tall rock formation, part of a wider landscape that looked like it been lifted piecemeal from the drier and dustier parts of Yasutora's childhood.

From the quality of the light, he'd thought they'd be outside somehow, but they weren't. The sky was blue, yes, but it was the fake blue of painted scenery. Likewise, the clouds and sun weren't real either. How the light was created, Yasutora had no idea but presumably the lack of living plants around the place meant that, however warm that sun felt on his skin, it was useless for keeping things alive. Good to know, he guessed, squinting briefly up at it.

As he came closer, the shinigami dipped the smallest of bows. "I suddenly realised that in all the excitement I failed to introduce myself properly. How terribly remiss. I'm Urahara Kisuke. At your service, Sado-kun."

That settled that question. Though the lack of Gotei rank in the introduction was telling.

Under the circumstances, Yasutora did the only thing he could and politely returned the bow saying, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Urahara-san. I'm sorry for intruding."

The slightly more genuine smile he got in reply suggested that he'd made the right decision not calling the man 'captain'.

"No problem, no problem at all," Urahara replied, one hand waving around as though trying to bat Yasutora's apology back to him. "I was just about to suggest that Shiba-kun took a break anyway. Follow me, please."

He flitted off again, this time towards the sounds of clashing swords. Yasutora shunpo'd slowly after him, catching up by the edge of a shallow ravine. Below, two figures fought a furious battle over ground littered with what had to be over a hundred swords of different shapes and sizes, all jammed upright in the earth.

One of the fighters Yasutora instantly recognised as Ichigo. The other he'd never seen before, either in this life or his last.

The man, was it? It was difficult to tell at this distance. Anyway, they were tall, towering over Ichigo as the pair fought in a dizzying series of clashes and retreats that were so fast Yasutora could hardly follow. He watched, breathless, wondering how anyone could keep up that sort of speed until suddenly, Ichigo broke away, careening towards the ground.

Dust exploded from where he landed and a moment later he appeared out of the cloud at a dead run, panting heavily. The top half of his shihakushō was ripped to shreds in places, blood matted his hair and streaked the side of his face, and the sword he was carrying was snapped off just above the hilt. Yasutora frowned. Perhaps he'd been too quick feeling relief at Ichigo still being alive, because right now he looked as though he could be losing this fight.

As he sprinted towards them, Ichigo tossed the sword he was carrying and seemed to be scanning the ground for another. Considering the huge numbers surrounding him, Yasutora couldn't work out why he didn't just grab one. They couldn't be that different, could they?

"Ichigo-kun!" Urahara called, apparently unperturbed by Ichigo's condition.

Ichigo looked up, then turned to glance behind him. The other fighter was coming in rapidly, Ichigo put on a spurt of speed and managed to snatch up another sword just in time to block a massive swing aimed at his head. Yasutora heard an unintelligible yell, probably something rude knowing Ichigo, and the two were off again, caught up a deadly dance of exchanged blows.

Urahara sighed gustily. "I suppose it's just you and me for lunch then," he said, and clapped his hands. Small figures flooded out from behind the rocks around them carrying baskets and bowls and cushions and… was that a barbecue? The 'servitors' he realised were mod souls, all dressed in brightly coloured outfits with kanji printed on them like mon.

One, in bright pink with 'rain' on its chest, and holding something patterned in blue and white check, stood beside Yasutora radiating sad disapproval. Yasutora looked askance at Urahara, who shrugged and said, "I think you might be in the way."

Sure enough, the second Yasutora moved, the mods swarmed the place he'd left vacant and, as he watched in utter bemusement, a picnic more suited to hanami than a fight to the death took shape before his eyes. The spread was huge; meat, fish, vegetables of every flavour and kind. Rice, noodles. Sweets and pastries. Some pots steamed, others carried the distinctive glaze of a chilled dish. There was even ice cream, packed in some kind of box that glowed with kidō. Another of the mods got the barbecue working, and the scent of grilling meat began to fill the air.

"If this doesn't attract his attention, nothing will," Urahara said, once it was all laid out on the massive checked tablecloth. He waved at a cushion, taking one for himself. "Sit, eat, make lots of yummy noises. Perhaps then your idiot boyfriend will stop fighting his zanpakutō long enough to come and join us."

His zanpakutō? As he took a seat, Yasutora looked out at Ichigo, still furiously fighting. His opponent really was tall, possibly even taller than Yasutora himself. They were dressed in a ragged flowing coat, and there was a fluidity to the way they fought that seemed to defy the laws of even Soul Society's screwed up physics.

That was Ichigo's zanpakutō spirit? How did it get out of his inner world? Then again, it wasn't the first time Yasutora had seen that happen. Kira could summon Ukitake's twins, so maybe this was the same sort of thing.

"He's not my boyfriend," Yasutora pointed out once he'd made himself comfortable.

Urahara glanced up at him, eyes shadowed as he served himself. "Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Yasutora replied, meeting Urahara's gaze head-on without flinching.

That approving smile spread over Urahara's face again. "Yes," he said, "I rather think you are." He helped himself to some curried rice, added a slice of omelet and some pickled ginger, and then held out his bowl while one of the mods balanced several pieces of freshly grilled meat on the top. Urahara grabbed a tasty looking piece with his chopsticks and popped it in his mouth. Yasutora's belly rumbled.

An amused gaze lifted to meet his. "If you're hungry, you should eat, Sado-kun. It's not poisoned, I promise."

It hadn't even occurred to Yasutora that it might be, though it probably should of done. Now it did. Yasutora frowned at the dishes and then at the mods still fussing around the place. Was he being played for a fool?

"I'd eat if I was you, before the greedy bastard takes it all himself."

Yasutora looked up with a start to find Ichigo standing over him, dripping sweat and… blood. One drop landed on the back of Yasutora's hand.

"Crap, sorry," Ichigo muttered, stepping back and swiping at his eye. His zanpakutō spirit was standing behind him, Yasutora realised, a silent shadow in the bright fake sunlight. Ichigo followed his gaze and said, "Right, yeah. That's my zanpakutō, Zangetsu. And ah, Ossan?" he addressed the spirit, "This's Chad. My best friend."

The tall spirit nodded sagely at Yasutora, though the eyes half-hidden behind tinted glasses held a hint of amusement. This close, Yasutora could see that the coat he'd assumed was black velvet was actually a seething mass of shadows. Pale cloth covered the lower part of its face, and more peeked out at the neck, cuffs and waist of the coat, like the frills on an old fashioned dress shirt. And over it all were chains. Fine and black, they dripped from sleeves and wound in great loops around the spirit's legs and feet, like they were all that was holding it together.

Urahara's insincere sing-song voice cut through Yasutora's reverie. "How touching. However, introductions might be a little superfluous, don't you think?" He waved an suggestively shaped piece of pickle in the air, "Zangetsu is already inside Ichigo-kun, after all." He popped the pickle in his mouth with an obscene slurp.

Yasutora's stomach chose that moment to point out that it still wasn't being fed.

A slight blush rose on Ichigo's cheeks. "I was just trying-" he began snappishly, then growled, "Fine. What are you doing here anyway?" That last was aimed at Yasutora and came accompanied by a familiar defensive scowl.

Too used to Ichigo's attitude to take offence, Yasutora replied, "Karin wants you at the 6th as soon as you're done."

Ichigo tensed all over. "There's trouble?" he demanded. Behind him, Zangetsu's brow furrowed into a worried frown.

"Not really." Yasutora thought about Ukitake and Tōsen, and the 12th trying to destroy the 13th. About him and Karin achieving shikai, and the refugees currently parked all over the 6th, and balked at the enormity of explaining any of it. Not to mention Koniwa's strange theories. He hadn't a clue how to start with that. Instead he opted for, "Win this fight first."

Ichigo narrowed a look at him, assessing and experienced. "You're sure?" he asked.

"Completely," Yasutora replied firmly. It was the best option. Ichigo needed not to be distracted while he was fighting and when he was done, Yasutora could take him back to the 6th and he could see what was going on for himself.

"You really do sell that extremely well, Sado-kun," Urahara put in. "If you decide to leave Ichigo's service, you should seriously consider going into sales. I know I certainly wouldn't hesitate to buy something from you. Honesty seeps from virtually every pore."

He finished his little speech by popping a pale pink mochi in his mouth and chewing like a hamster. It was the final straw for Yasutora. Glancing up at Ichigo, he jerked a thumb at the food. "It's okay to eat this stuff?"

"It's what he's been feeding me," Ichigo replied, hunkering down beside Yasutora and picking up a plate. "And I'm not dead yet."

A strange muffled sound came the other side of the tablecloth. Yasutora and Ichigo both looked up to see Urahara turning slightly red and gesticulating wildly as he choked down the mochi. He swallowed hard, twice, then blew out a little phew of relief, before saying, "Almost missed my chance, and it was such a perfect straight line as well." He cleared his throat dramatically, before stating, "You've got another eighteen hours before that becomes a problem, Ichigo-kun."

Yasutora blinked, because really? This guy thought that was something to laugh about? Beside him, Ichigo just looked blank, which meant he'd either missed the meaning or was just being awkward. It was difficult to tell with Ichigo.

Urahara looked disappointed at their lack of reaction to his quip. "Tough crowd," he muttered, climbing to his feet. "Anyway, I have important business to attend to, so I'll leave you two boys to catch up on all the most important gossip." His gaze rested on Yasutora for a significant second when he said that. "Have fun without me, but not so much fun that you don't want me back." And with that, he and his mod-soul minions vanished off in a flit of shunpo.

Ichigo heaved a huge sigh and plopped down properly on the ground. "I swear that guy fucks with my head just for the hell of it. Have you got any idea what he was on about?" As he spoke, he picked up some chopsticks, prodded at a couple of the dishes and finally picked up a lump of fried chicken.

Considering that in eighteen hours it would be the end of the the third day of Ichigo's attempt to attain bankai, Yasutora had a pretty good idea. "You've got less than a day left," he said.

It was Ichigo's turn to almost choke. "Seriously?" he croaked, once he'd stopped coughing and hitting himself in the chest. "Crap, this place is deceptive. I'd better get going." He leapt up, obviously set to run off straight away. At the final second, he stopped and looked back. "Are you gonna be okay? Anything you need or anything?"

Yasutora looked at the food and the cushions, then back up at Ichigo, who was bruised and still bleeding slightly, and shook his head. Given a choice, he'd rather be fighting at Ichigo's side, but since that was impossible, he could be here instead, bolstering his reserves to take over if Ichigo needed him. And it'd hardly be the first time he'd had to eat and sleep while a friend fought for their life nearby.

* * *

A bull's nervous snort brought Yasutora racing out of sleep, hand already closing around the zanpakutō across his lap as unknown reiatsu headed towards him across the underground room. The signature reminded him of Hachi's, except this was darker, heavier, and a lot more dangerous. Only its speed prevented Yasutora from flipping straight into fight or flight mode because, whoever it was coming his way, they were doing it at a slow walking pace, which meant they either didn't know he was there, or they were giving him the chance to wake up properly before they arrived.

Either way, he needed to get moving.

As he rolled to his feet, Yasutora checked quickly to see how Ichigo was doing. Still fighting, going by the sounds of clashing swords, so nothing much had changed there, except… Yasutora paused, still on one knee, a hand pressed to the rock he'd been sleeping against. That wasn't right. Ichigo's reiatsu was way too low for how close the fight sounded. How long had he been asleep anyway? It was still daylight, so not that long, surely.

Before he had the chance to see what was happening with his own eyes, the stranger came around the other corner of the rock. Yasutora rose to meet him, and found himself face to face with a wizard, or at least someone who looked just like one. The only thing he was missing was the pointy hat, though the hair, neatly styled into a pair of horns, more than made up for it. After adding in the magnificent moustache, which Yasutora could virtually hear his abuelo admiring, the floor length midnight blue robe complete with gold trim, and the ornate staff, Yasutora was tempted to look around for Harry Potter.

Sunlight flashed ominously off square eye-glasses. Yasutora realised he was staring. He dropped his gaze to a more appropriate target, and discovered the next best thing to a Hogwart's badge emblazoned on the man's chest. The mon identified him as a member of the kidō corps, and dressed like that, no way was he low ranked.

Knowing better than to break with etiquette and try to introduce himself to someone so senior, Yasutora held his tongue and, since the other guy didn't seem inclined to speak either, they stood facing each other in increasingly uncomfortable silence as the sounds of Ichigo's ongoing battle rose from the ravine.

Finally the wizard cleared his throat and said, "Your friend seems to be doing quite well."

Yasutora's gaze flicked automatically towards the ravine behind him. "His reiatsu is low," he replied.

The wizard inclined his head. "That is understandable. He's been fighting for a great many hours."

Too many. Worry crimped at Yasutora's gut. Still, Ichigo had promised that he would do this, so when Yasutora answered, it was with total confidence, "Ichigo will win."

"Such faith," came Urahara's voice from above and behind him. The tone was only just shy of mocking, but when Yasutora swung round to find Urahara perched atop the rock, his grubby green haori now covered by a hooded black cloak, the man's expression seemed sincere. "Ichigo-kun must be very special indeed to elicit such devotion."

This time there was no levity at all in his voice and the defensive comment that had hovered on Yasutora's lips faded unspoken.

Urahara dropped to the ground between Yasutora and the wizard, and smiled up at the latter, "Thank you for coming, Tessai-san. Ichigo will need your services in," his eyes flickered closed for a second, "approximately seven minutes and twenty-seconds."

That, sounded ominous, but before Yasutora could start asking questions, Urahara turned to him and announced in that irritatingly over-dramatic way he had, "You must forgive me, Sado-san. Once more I am remiss in my social duties. Please, be introduced to my friend, Tsukabishi Tessai, kidō grandmaster and highly respected captain of the Gotei 13's kidō corps."

Yasutora had been right. This shinigami was a wizard. In fact, he was Soul Society's answer to Dumbledore. "I am very honoured to meet you, captain-Tsukabishi," he said formally with a deeply respectful bow.

He came back up to find them both looking at him quizzically. "What on earth did Tessai do to deserve that level of respect?" Urahara asked, and then with a pout added, "I'm a captain too, you know."

"It could have something to do with shaving properly and actually wearing my uniform," Tsukabishi replied. His speech was polite but informal. They were definitely friends.

Urahara looked askance at him, pout abandoned in favour of deep hurt, that was about as genuine as his previous expression had been. It was reassuring in a way to see that he did this to everyone. "You wound me. I take very good care of my captain's haori. It's precious to me."

Something about the tall stern wizard softened, though no smile touched his lips. He inclined his head and that seemed to be that for the subject.

Urahara turned to Yasutora and said, "As you might have guessed, things are rapidly coming to a head. Just in case Ichigo gets a little carried away in the final stages of his battle, Tessai here is going to erect a barrier to protect you." He paused and frowned slightly. "Well, more like a kidō box actually, but it'll serve the same function."

Yasutora opened his mouth to ask about them, and closed it again. Stupid question. They were captains and thus were capable of dealing with anything Ichigo might throw at them. He nodded instead and said, "No problem."

"Good." Urahara beamed at him for a second, then turned to Tsukabishi, "Shall we?"

Tsukabishi nodded, raised his staff with its jingling rings, and intoned, "Hitōri fūjin." Before Yasutora could blink, the pair of them vanished, and less than a heartbeat later, the kidō rose, surrounding him with a clear box of solid reishi, identical in all but size to the one Hachi always used to enclose the fighting arena.

Had Hachi been in the kidō corps before his family had been taken? Yasutora had no idea. He'd never asked. Just like he'd never asked Jackie anything about her life before. And now he'd never have the chance. Would the same thing happen with Ichigo? Sure Ichigo'd promised, but sometimes there were promises you just couldn't keep, no matter how hard you tried. Yasutora knew. He'd promised to keep Jackie safe.

As his thoughts took on a darker edge, Morinari stirred, the bull's bulk pressing up against Yasutora's aching empty spaces. Not to fill them, but to offer support. _Never alone,_ its comforting rumble came, _Never again._

Yasutora opened his eyes to discover he was leaning with both hands and forehead pressed to the barrier. He pushed off it and looked around, immediately spotting Ichigo not far away, still fighting his zanpakutō spirit.

_Will we have to do that one day?_ he wondered silently. Morinari didn't reply.

It quickly became obvious, as he watched Ichigo fighting, that something had changed. Whereas before, Ichigo had always been defending, now he was on the attack and Zangetsu looked to be the one in trouble. Also, Ichigo's speed had increased, which seemed counter-intuitive considering how long he'd been fighting.

Was his reiatsu still dropping, or had it stabilised? Yasutora frowned in concentration, worry stirring again as he felt just how low it had plummeted. But he did seem to be winning now. If he could just hold on long enough, then maybe.

Yasutora's hand curled into a fist and he pressed it against the barrier. He wanted to be out there, helping Ichigo like Ichigo had helped him all those times. Being stuck in here, watching, was agony. Though, Yasutora supposed, he should be grateful that the kidō box was in the perfect position for him to get a decent view.

When it happened, it was so fast he almost missed it. The pair were fighting no more than twenty feet away, when Ichigo suddenly lunged, sweeping the sword from Zangetsu's hands. The sword flew, arcing high up into the sky and, head bowed in defeat, the spirit dropped to one knee in front of Ichigo.

Rather than run him through, which Yasutora had been half-expecting, Ichigo let his own sword tumble to the ground and simply held out his empty hand. Zangetsu's sword fell into it, hilt first, like it was being called home.

As it smacked into Ichigo's palm, the spirit, along with every other sword in the ravine, vanished, and what looked like a wooden dummy toppled to the ground at Ichigo's feet. And Yasutora knew. This was it. Ichigo had done it.

Slowly, scowling in concentration, Ichigo brought both hands together, the captured sword held out in front of him, and his reiatsu signature started to change, to swell and thicken, pressure building like lava under a volcano. Higher and then higher still, until the world narrowed to sharp edges, force and brutal control. Then Ichigo uttered a single word, that reverberated out across the whole of the underground room. "Ban-kai!"

Reiatsu exploded out in all directions, at least twice as strong as the last time Yasutora had felt it. He flinched, instinctively turning sideways to avoid the blast. The barrier did its job, protecting him from the worst of it, but even so, he was close enough to the source that his bones rattled.

A second phrase followed hard on the first, just as strong, just as decisive. "Tensa Zangetsu."

Dust began to settle, and through it Yasutora could see Ichigo, standing with the sword still held out in front of him, head raised and chest heaving, face split by an absolutely exultant grin.

If the reiatsu boost hadn't been clue enough that he'd done it, the fact that both Ichigo's sword and his shihakushō had changed shape was a dead give away. The massive cleaver he'd taken from the spirit was gone, replaced with a simple black katana, and the outer layer of Ichigo's shihakushō now reached all the way to his calves, flaring in the wind of his reiatsu in an echo of Zangetsu's long tattered coat.

Yasutora slapped his palm on the barrier as joy and pride sang through him, tinged with more than a bit of relief. He should have trusted Ichigo to keep his promise, but there had been so much riding on this, so many people waiting and hoping, that having it actually happen was almost too good to be true.

The noise must have attracted Ichigo's attention. He looked over at Yasutora, waved and yelled, "You're next." Yasutora gave him the thumbs up, wanting to get out from behind this barrier, get over there and tell him right this moment that he was on it, that he had shikai and no way was Ichigo leaving him behind again.

He couldn't. He was trapped here for now, making do with watching. It would have to be enough.

A moment later, Urahara appeared beside Ichigo, full of congratulatory smiles. He said something, then withdrew a small distance as Ichigo nodded a reply. Ichigo's bankai faded, clothing and zanpakutō returning to their usual forms and, as they did, Ichigo's reiatsu plummeted. He staggered, the point of his massive sword dipping to the ground and digging in as he leaned heavily on it, face pasty pale and ribs heaving. Exhausted from the battle.

Urahara returned to his side, glancing at Yasutora as he did so, which was when Yasutora saw sunlight glint off the bared metal in Urahara's left hand.

A sword.

No. Not now. Not after everything.

"Ichigo!" Yasutora roared in warning, slamming both fists against the barrier.

Ichigo glanced back over his shoulder a heartbeat too late. Urahara's sword thrust slid in from behind, a foot of bloodied blade erupting from the centre of Ichigo's chest. Ichigo stared down at it, his expression one of utter disbelief. Then his hands spasmed open, letting Zangetsu fall, and a heartbeat later Ichigo went too, following his zanpakutō to the ground.

Howling in mindless desperation, Yasutora threw himself against the barrier, bounced off it, and threw himself again. And again. He had to get out there. To help Ichigo. Because Ichigo might still be alive.

No, Ichigo had to still be alive. Had to be. Had to!

That murdering bastard was leaning over him, touching him, doing… something.

"Leave him alone!" Yasutora bellowed. The words resonated through his body, more felt than heard. Morinari seemed to leap into his hand, the blade dividing as it came, twin-horned tekko taking the place of fists as he punched and cursed and fought with everything he had, heart and soul ripping itself to pieces because he had to get out, get through, get help, something…for Ichigo…. for his friend…

Until finally he dropped to his knees, staring through the still pristine barrier at Ichigo's body. His best friend. Lying motionless in the dirt as blood pooled around him.

Again.

He'd let it happen again.

"I think it's a bit early for tears, don't you?"

Urahara's voice washed over him like a wave over a half-drowned man. Beyond rational thought, Yasutora let it take him, not caring if carried him to land or back out to sea.

The voice came again, falsely bright and raising a bitter tide in Yasutora's heart. "He'll be fine. Well, probably, after all there's no guarantees when you're doing something like this, but precedent suggests that he won't actually die."

Morinari's horns made twin dents in the kidō barrier, level with Urahara's head. They vanished almost immediately but not before Urahara scampered back, his face a mixture of amusement and reluctant admiration.

"My, my, you really are as strong as you look, aren't you," Urahara said, sidling back over.

"What. Did. You. Do?" Yasutora ground out, hardly able to speak around the fury clamping his chest.

"Me?" Urahara's eyes opened dramatically wide, before turning opaque and sly. "Only what I told him I would," he replied and turned to face Ichigo's body, a study in suddenly focused interest. "Ah, it looks like it's finally starting."

What was that supposed to mean? Yasutora turned as well, belly and lungs seizing in hope as Ichigo moved. At first it was no more than an uncoordinated stirring of limbs, but then he seemed to find himself and pushed slowly, painfully to hands and knees.

Panting, head hanging, he got no further. And wouldn't without help.

"Do something," Yasutora demanded, hearing his voice crack in fear and desperation as Ichigo coughed, a deep wet sound, and something began to ooze from his mouth. At this distance it looked white, but that was impossible. It had to be blood.

Urahara shook his head. "I've done everything I can," he said. "The rest is up to Ichigo-kun."


	21. Shakedown Street

Ichigo coughed. Something gross oozed up his throat to fill his mouth and nose. He tried to spit. Couldn't, and so worked on keeping breathing instead.

Was it blood? Had to be. From the sword Urahara had shoved through him.

But why? Made no sense. If the guy wanted him dead, Ichigo'd slept in front of him, eaten his food. He could've done it anytime.

Why?

A memory: _"And what's all this help gonna cost me?" "Nothing much, just a favour, at a place and time of my choosing."_

Thought scattered as pain racked him along with another cough, reassembling in the aftermath like pictures in a kaleidescope. Brown, black, scarlet, white.

_"I'm calling in the favour you owe me, Ichigo-kun."_

The sword was still there. He could see it, steel against the black of his shihakushō, dark against the pale brown of the dusty ground, wobbling up and down as his ribs flexed.

Blood dripped from its tip; plip, plop, plip. Scarlet blooms slowly being swallowed by snow.

It didn't hurt anymore.

That was bad, wasn't it?

_"Take you home, feed you tea and cake, turn you into a monster."_

Ichigo fell.

* * *

"It's called hollowfication."

Yasutora curled his hands into fists. Morinari's horns scraped against the barrier and this time the damage didn't fix itself.

Urahara glanced at it nervously.

"If he dies-"

Down below them, Ichigo roared to his feet, streamers of white fluid flinging out around him. The sword still protruded from his chest like some kind of horror movie special effect and the belt of his hakama was scarlet with blood.

The barrier cracked and Yasutora pulled his fist back to strike again.

All humour gone, Urahara shot him disapproving glance and said, "I think that would be extremely unwise, don't you, Yasutora-kun? If things go badly, you might appreciate the protection." Then, with a single wave of his hand, he returned the barrier to its former pristine clarity.

* * *

Ichigo fell, landed on something odd, and immediately sank like a stone. But not into water. Whatever had got him was thick and black, as viscous as tar, and as cold and wet as clothes in winter. He flailed an arm, failed to touch anything with his fingers, which was beyond unfair because that always worked, and sank further. Swimming didn't help either. In fact, the more he tried to move, the faster he was losing ground.

Like quicksand.

What were you supposed to do with that stuff again? Right, don't struggle. If you struggled, you just sank more quickly.

It took a lot of effort, but Ichigo managed to force himself to stop fighting, and once he did, he surfaced rapidly, emerging to a steady drizzle and scudding sideways clouds.

His inner world. Great. But what the hell was the black stuff?

"Old man!" he called out, carefully treading… gloop? to keep his head above the surface. In some ways it was surprisingly easy; the stuff was buoyant and held him up well; but it also clung, trying to suck him back down, so he couldn't relax his guard for a moment.

He called again, louder, "Ossan, you around?"

_Over here, Ichigo,_ Zangetsu's voice felt like it came from behind him. Or at least the voice sounded kind of like Zangetsu.

Ichigo tried to turn, almost sank again, flailed slowly round in a circle, and found himself facing something he would have sworn hadn't been in his inner world on his last visit. A white cross about fifteen foot tall, shaped like the kanji for ten, loomed over him. And hanging off it…

Ichigo's hand flew to his own chest, half-expecting to find the sword still impaling him. It wasn't, it couldn't be, because now it was through Zangetsu, pinning the spirit to the cross.

Black stuff streamed from the wound like blood, except no way could anything ever hold this much. A midnight sea, it stretched in every direction around the base of the cross, pouring off the edges of buildings like waterfalls, only to reappear on the next building over. Impossible, just like the rest of Ichigo's inner world.

"Zangetsu?" Ichigo croaked, heart in his throat as guilt swamped him because, whatever Urahara had done to him out there, it was nothing compared to what the sword had done in here.

The spirit opened his eyes, blinking several times before he managed to focus on Ichigo. His breathing was laboured and, every now and then, he jerked violently like something was moving him. The chains that normally hung loose, now dug in, creating bulges and creases all over his body, but not because the chains were any shorter, but because now they reached around the cross as well.

_Ichigo,_ Zangetsu's voice husked painfully in his head, _I apologise. I never meant-_

"What? To get stabbed?" Ichigo cut in. "Screw that! It's not your fault!" Forgetting what he was floating in, Ichigo struck out towards the cross, only to start sinking again as the gloop began to suck him down.

_Ichigo, do not fight-_ The advice got bitten off as Zangetsu cried out, writhing in obvious agony, a butterfly impaled on a pin. His arms twitched, trying to reach for the sword but unable to get to it with his arms restrained by the chains. Below the sword, his belly began to bulge obscenely, pulling the chains even tighter. The lump pulsed, heaving like there was something alive inside him, something alive and doing its damnedest to fight its way out.

"Zangetsu!" Ichigo bellowed, his brain dredging up every horror movie he'd ever seen as evidence for what was about to happen. "Shit! Zangetsu!"

For a split second, Zangetsu just hung there, then the chains exploded, and from sword strike to groin, his coat ruptured as something forced its way out. 'Alien!' Ichigo thought immediately, as long pale limbs emerged, held together by a mash-up of angles and blobby bits. Then, 'human?' as a head followed and the limbs unfolded into something just the wrong side of normal.

But it wasn't human. Not quite. It was human-sized, but it moved wrong. Stretched like it was hung on hangers not bones, and it was pure white. All of it; clothing, hair, skin; all came in the same washed-out bleached tone.

Now freed from the chains, Zangetsu moved, grabbing for the creature with both hands. At the same time, strands of black gloop raced back up the cross to twine around the creature's ankles, seeming hell-bent on dragging it down to join Ichigo in the depths. With a manic whoop of glee, the creature ripped the sword out of Zangetsu's chest, swung it one-handed at the black stuff, which parted beneath the blade like silk before scissors, and bounced clear, straight over Zangetsu's head and on up to the tip of the cross. There, it hunkered down, all knees and elbows beneath its bone-white shihakushō, and turned an intense gaze on Ichigo.

At the sight of its face, Ichigo's breath caught. Not because the creature was obviously a hollow, but because the face which held those black and gold eyes was identical to his own.

What the hell had Urahara done to him?

_…turn you into a monster._

But this wasn't replacement parts like Hisagi. This went deeper than that. This was, what? Soul surgery? Done by the man who implanted souls into hollow's bodies. Had he done the opposite and stuck a hollow inside Ichigo?

"Oi! You!" Ichigo yelled. "What the hell are you anyway!"

The hollow raised its head, cocking it slightly as it frowned at Ichigo. For a second Ichigo thought maybe it didn't understand, then a savage grin replaced confusion.

"Ya mean ya don't recognise me, 'king'?" the hollow replied in an eerily double-modulated voice. It leaned forward impossibly far and, as it did so, the sword hanging loosely from its hand morphed into a much more familiar shape.

"Hey! That's my zanpakutō!" Ichigo protested, jabbing an accusing finger towards it.

The hollow's smile just widened into a toothy grin. Reiatsu crackled around it like a rising storm and it let the blade dangle further, carelessly swinging it by the wrappings. "You want it, come take it. If ya can, in a fair fight."

"Just fucking watch me," Ichigo snarled, lunging for the hollow. He immediately sank like a stone, the black closing over his head with a terrifying inevitability. It took everything he had to stop fighting and let himself rise again. He breached the surface, spluttering and swearing, "Just let me get out of this shit first!"

"Tch. Do what ya want," the hollow replied, dismissing Ichigo with a flick of its fingers. The sword by its side began spinning more rapidly at the end of its wrappings as the hollow dropped its gaze hungrily down to where Zangetsu was slumped. "Reckon I'd rather have the thief first anyways."

Ichigo had just enough time to think, 'what?' before the hollow yelled, "Die, bastard!" and sent a whirling circle of bladed death flying at Zangetsu's unprotected back.

"Ossan!" Ichigo bellowed.

At the base of the cross, Zangetsu moved. The sword cut past him, driving deep into the black stuff with a kind of squooshy thunk, and a second later it was gone again, shooting back towards hollow. But not alone. Tendrils of black gloop shot after it, heading towards the hollow, which leapt high and wild, its laugh a vicious cascade of sound as it tumbled through the air, the zanpakutō dancing in its hands, changing direction and pace in an instant as it sliced anything that came near it in a display of swordsmanship that took Ichigo's breath away.

When gloop running into his eyes threatened to spoil the view, Ichigo scrubbed fingers through his hair, scraping out a handful of the black stuff. What the hell was it anyway? He flicked a gob off his hand and it reabsorbed back into the main mass like that slime stuff kids played with.

Whatever it was, Zangetsu could control it. He was back on his feet now, gesturing with his hands in the same way Byakuya did when he was manipulating Senbonzakura in shikai, and the gloop was responding. More and more tendrils rose from the surface, twisting together until they became great lengths of black chain that Zangetsu sent looping after the hollow. It leapt higher, slicing at the pursuing strands, but for every one it cut down, ten more took its place. Even with its sword cutting great swathes through the attackers, slowly but surely, the hollow was being cornered.

Which was when it aimed the sword straight at Ichigo and yelled, "Getsuga tenshō!" as an ever-growing crescent of black and red reiatsu burst from the sword's tip.

"And that's my damned move!" Ichigo yelled back, doing the only thing he could in the face of this kind of attack. He raised his hands and braced himself to absorb the power. Except, unlike every other time he'd used it, this time the Quincy trick didn't work. Instead the getsuga tenshō piled into him, driving him backwards, deep under the gloop once again.

Ichigo went willingly, hoping there was enough of the stuff to save his skin. But the reiatsu followed him down, vaporising the gloop on contact. Power slammed into Ichigo again, stealing sight and breath. Skin burned under the friction and flesh bruised, as he was driven back and back.

If only he had something to throw against it. Something like… kidō! Danku would be perfect, if only he knew the damn spell. But he could make hadō work too.

Level fifty-eight, tenran, blasted out unincanted from his palms in a spiralling tornado of reiatsu that smashed through all it touched. For a brief wonderful second, the pressure let up and Ichigo could breathe again, see again. The world around him was a black and red reiatsu storm, the gloop burning away to nothingness, and then the tenran dissipated, absorbed by the greater power of the hollow's getsuga tenshō, and the blast was back full force, carving away at Ichigo's body like a sandstorm.

Kidō was a wash, then. Back to plan A.

Turning his face away in a vain attempt to protect it, Ichigo raised his hands again, palms out, trying to force his body to absorb the reiatsu. Probably it was a pointless gesture, but he had to try something, because no way was this ending here. No way was the captain of the 6th going down to a look-alike hollow in his own inner world. That was beyond humiliating. He'd never be able to face Renji and Byakuya again if he let that happen.

Then, between one second and the next, the reiatsu vanished. Ichigo stumbled, dropping to one knee as he lifted his head and saw the back of a familiar black-shadowed coat, its ragged hem swaying in a non-existent wind.

Old man Zangetsu stood between Ichigo and the hollow with his palms outstretched, mimicking the position Ichigo had used to try and absorb the getsuga tenshō. Only for Zangetsu, it had worked. The reiatsu storm was gone.

"Thank crap for that," Ichigo gasped, staggering to his feet. He felt shell-shocked from taking such a pounding, but wasn't about to let that stop him. "Now we can get my sword back and give that bastard hollow the kicking it deserves!"

Rather than obey, Zangetsu made a complicated hand-gesture before setting off after the hollow. Several strands of black shadow shot from the spirit's coat towards Ichigo, whose attempt to dodge was half-hearted at best. Before Ichigo could stop them, the strands had him by the left ankle, looping tight around it and forming a solid manacle where they joined. The other end plunged into the side of the skyscraper where it merged seamlessly with metal and glass.

Which was when Ichigo realised that his inner world was back to how it should be. The black was gone. All of it. Except for the strands Zangetsu was sending after the happily cackling hollow, and the single heavy chain now anchoring Ichigo in place.

"Gods damn it, Ossan! Why?" Ichigo yelled after the departing Zangetsu.

As Zangetsu's attack on the hollow restarted in earnest, the spirit's voice echoed inside Ichigo's head, _I am sorry, Ichigo, but this is not your battle to fight._

* * *

"This is really quite fascinating," Urahara was saying to Tsukabishi, who'd reappeared a few moments ago. "I would have expected him to start fighting by now."

Yasutora listened only because he had no choice, trapped as he was behind the wizard's barrier. The rest of him was focused on Ichigo, who, after the initial thrashing roar, had dropped silently to his knees, his whole body arching as he shuddered and shook uncontrollably. The stuff, which Urahara said was hollow bone, crept incrementally across his face, turning him from man into monster.

"Perhaps its his Quincy heritage. Or something to do with those strangely anomalous readings I picked up the first time. Remember, Tessai-san, I told you about them. They were very odd. Almost as though the boy was partly hollowfied already, though of course that would be completely impossible. It's a well-proven fact that any attempt to hollowfy a living Quincy inevitably causes soul suicide."

Yasutora's head whipped round and he glared at Urahara. He wasn't the only one. Tsukabishi was also giving him a very serious look. Urahara glanced between them, smiled nervously and waved his hand. "Oh, it'll be fine, I'm sure. I mean, so long as Ichigo can defeat his inner -"

The rest of what he had to say was lost as Ichigo screamed, a sound that was pure hollow. Every eye turned in that direction as Ichigo grasped the sword by the blade and dragged it right through his body, leaving a gaping wound in its wake. Not that that seemed to bother Ichigo. He surged to his feet, turning to face them, and the eyes burning behind the hollow's mask were an alien black and gold.

"Finally," Urahara said, stirring himself. "Tessai, could you do the honours, please, while I call up reinforcements."

Tsukabishi's assured nod went some way towards calming Yasutora's panic at seeing those eyes. While he'd been in the Pits, he'd faced more than a few 'failed experiments' who bore eyes like that, and without exception, they were all uncontrollable monsters. But if this was what Urahara and Tsukabishi were expecting to happen, maybe in Ichigo's case the development wasn't so bad after all.

Which didn't mean Yasutora wasn't planning on punching Urahara right in the smug mouth when he got out from behind this barrier.

Urahara let out a long whistle and, just as had happened earlier, small child-like figures dressed in bright colours emerged from behind the surrounding rock formations. Only this time they weren't carrying picnic baskets, they were armed with swords. Quickly they moved to surround Ichigo, who tried to face them, his head turning this way and that as they flitted around him like multi-coloured bugs.

A surge of reiatsu from Tsukabishi was followed by his quiet voice intoning, "Bakudō 63, sajō sabaku." The next moment yellow kidō rope shot from the sky right down on top of Ichigo, snaking around him and trapping his arms against his sides. He screamed again, and this time the sound was edged with fury.

Urahara gave Tsukabishi a sceptical look. "Will that hold, do you think?"

"If it doesn't, I'll use something stronger," Tsukabishi replied, apparently supremely unperturbed. He looked less so the next moment when the kidō rope completely disintegrated and Ichigo streaked towards them up the hill.

"Ah, that'd be the Quincy influence then," Urahara commented brightly. Tsukabishi shot an unimpressed look at him and raised his hands, obviously ready to cast another kidō.

But before Ichigo could even get close, a line of mod souls intercepted him. They might not be big, but they were fast, and they went at Ichigo one after another, never giving him a chance to regroup. Slowly but inexorably, they drove him back down the slope.

* * *

It didn't matter how hard he pulled on it, the chain wasn't coming loose. Feeling more than a bit put out, Ichigo slumped back and glared up at the sky where his zanpakutō spirit was busy defending Ichigo's soul from the invader. They moved so fast, it was almost impossible to track them, but the few clashes Ichigo saw were impressive, and scarily well-matched.

It'd be easy to tip the balance, if only he could join them. But to do that, he needed to get free of the chain.

How had Zangetsu done that anyway? And the thing with the fighting chains. He'd never pulled anything like it when they'd fought before, and Ichigo could think of several occasions when it might have made the difference between winning and losing. Like during their battle for bankai. Pinning Ichigo in place would have made it an easy victory.

Then again, all those times, Zangetsu had been fighting with his own sword. This time, he didn't seem to have one, and despite being able to absorb reiatsu, manifesting a sword didn't seem to be an option either, which presumably meant the shadow chains he created from his coat were the only weapon he had access to.

But how could a zanpakutō not have access to itself. That made no sense.

Dismissing the problem as one of life's mysteries, Ichigo sat up, rolled up his pants' leg, and examined the manacle and chain more closely.

It looked like solid metal, but when Ichigo brushed fingertips over it, there was an almost liquid property to the material. Just like the black gloop, which, Ichigo remembered, had been coming out of Zangetsu. And since this chain had come from Zangetsu's cloak, it was probably made of the same kinda stuff.

Which meant trying to force it was never going to work. It was going to take a rational and logical thought process, never Ichigo's strong points. Damn it, where was Uryū when you needed him. He'd think his way out of this in a heartbeat.

Ichigo tracked his fingers further down the chain to where it merged with the metal and glass of the building. Nothing there, the transition was seamless. And back up, to the join between manacle and chain. That too was undetectable.

But beside it, on the bottom edge, was patch that felt different.

Mentally thanking his lovers for increasing his flexibility, Ichigo easily managed to get his foot and the manacle high enough and turned so he could see what his fingertips had felt. It was a small hole, or the outline of one. Not much more than a slit really, the edges blurred with what would have been rust had the manacle been metal.

Ichigo scratched at it with a fingernail. A small amount flaked off, but not enough to make any difference. What he needed was something sharp. Like a blade.

Letting his foot go, Ichigo raised his eyes to the two fighters still battling it out across the sky. Specifically the hollow, who was wielding Ichigo's zanpakutō with more skill than Ichigo had ever dreamed of possessing. And he liked to think he was no slouch, not these days, anyway. He could easily hold his own against Renji, and even did okay against Byakuya. Enough to get warm nod of approval anyway, and from Byakuya that was the equivalent of an award certificate.

But the hollow was something else. It used Zangetsu like the sword was an extension of its own body. And the sword responded. It almost seemed to change shape in the hollow's hands, extending its length as it was sent snapping forwards to the very end of its wrappings, only to coil back straight into the hollow's hand like a falcon returning to the fist. If the old man had fought like that earlier, Ichigo would never have beaten the name of his bankai out of him.

For his part, Ossan handled his chains just as well. Their loops had the hollow permanently on the run, though every now and then it'd stop for long enough to try another getsuga tenshō. The old man simply absorbed the black and red reiatsu, turning it straight back on its owner in the form of long strands that looked like short spears, or maybe arrows shot without a bow.

Ichigo bit back a snicker. If he hadn't handed the Quincy cross over to Ryūken, he could have offered it to Zangetsu now. It'd definitely suit the old man's fighting style. At this point, it was way more Quincy than shinigami.

Ichigo's gaze drifted back to the hollow. Despite its skills, it was starting to get overwhelmed. Even the blows it managed to land didn't seem to be making much of an impact, except for halting the chains for a couple a seconds. If this battle went on much longer, it was going to lose.

And why didn't that thought please Ichigo? It should. The hollow was an invader, planted here by Urahara. No way should Ichigo want it to win.

But there was something about it. Something that called to Ichigo. Telling him that if he could only fight the hollow himself, maybe he could learn to handle Zangetsu like that. Maybe he could learn to make the sword love him as much as it seemed to love the hollow.

On the heels of a particularly vicious clash, several lengths of chain looped out towards the hollow. The hollow dodged, but not fast enough. The chains tangled around its legs and, in the split second it was immobilised, the old man sent a long slash of reiatsu shooting towards it. The 'arrow' pierced the hollow through and through, both ends clearly visible, before the hollow lowered the sword out in front of it, grasped one arm with the other, and in a voice that Ichigo could hear even from this far away, said, "Bankai. Tensa Zangetsu!"

* * *

The mods were holding their own when Ichigo suddenly froze, the sword at his side as unmoving as his body. For a second nothing happened and then, as one, the mods pulled back, forming a wide circle about fifty feet around him.

Outside the barrier, Urahara was leaning forwards, lower lip caught between his teeth in an expression of anticipation. Whatever was about to happen, Urahara had been expecting it, just like the hollowfication itself.

Slightly mollified, Yasutora turned his attention back towards Ichigo, just in time to feel Ichigo's hollow-tainted reiatsu surge. It blasted out, black tinged with red, faster and further that Yasutora would have thought possible. Further than Urahara had been expecting too, going by his quiet curse when the first rank of mods vaporised under the power of it. The rest retreated further, some falling as they fled, others just making it to safety.

"He is very powerful," Tsukabishi said, as the reiatsu settled into something just about tolerable.

Urahara's eyebrows went up and he stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head slightly and shifting his gaze back to Ichigo. "You truly are a master of understatement, Tessai-san," he pronounced. "However you're also correct. I was expecting a lot, the boy's a Shiba after all, but this… This might be unprecedented." He paused, brows furrowing as he squinted down the hill. "I might even go so far as to say, 'artificial'."

Down below, liquid bone had begun pouring from the wound in Ichigo's chest. Healing it finally, Yasutora wondered?

No, in fact it was the opposite, he realised. As bone spread across Ichigo's chest, it left a hole behind. A perfectly circular hollow hole. Was he going to transform completely?

Before Yasutora had a chance to ask, Urahara whistled again and the mods re-engaged, using their same hit and run strategy. But this time, its effect was even more limited. Few, if any, of their blows hit home. Ichigo was even faster and stronger than before, and as he fought, he changed. His feet hollowfied, becoming taloned like a bird's, the mask thickened into something even more bestial, and when Ichigo snorted, it made the kind of noise that wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from Yasutora's bull.

Finally, after long minutes during which Ichigo cut down a good quarter of the surviving mods, Urahara drew his zanpakutō and stepped forward. "It seems I am needed in the vanguard," he said lightly. Beside him, Tsukabishi's expression darkened as Urahara, his gaze fixed on the fight below, continued, "I am relying on you, old friend, should things take a turn for the worse." And with that, he stepped into shunpo.

He reappeared going straight on the attack, catching Ichigo completely off-guard with some kind of power blast from his zanpakutō. It blew Ichigo off his feet, throwing him backwards like a rag doll. He came up fighting, with liquid bone pouring from the deep wound Urahara had managed to inflict on his shoulder.

Tsukabishi let out a quiet grunt as though that development surprised him. It didn't seem to phase Urahara, who, in a flit of shunpo too fast to track, darted in to attack again. And again. Quick, stabbing, in and outs. Each time, Ichigo took damage and each time the white stuff spread further to heal him again.

Urahara was analysing Ichigo's abilities, Yasutora realised after a couple of minutes. Testing him for potential vulnerabilities. It was a good strategy. Intelligent. But how long would it take him to -

Yasutora's breath caught as Urahara suddenly swung his blade, firing a streak of deadly crimson power that hit at point blank range and sent Ichigo flying backwards, his left arm cleaved cleanly off just above the elbow.

"Ichigo-!" Yasutora began, lurching forwards, his fists hitting the barrier. Because that was Ichigo's arm, dammit!

"Do not concern yourself on behalf of your friend," Tsukabishi said quietly, "In this condition, he will heal quickly."

Not quite able to believe the reassurance, Yasutora glued his attention on Ichigo.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Ichigo lay unmoving on the ground, hardly even breathing as far as Yasutora could tell, and then something erupted from what was left of his arm. Flashes of orange and pinkish tentacles resolved into some monstrous bone-white thing with gaping jaws and snapping teeth, that shot towards Urahara almost too fast to see.

Urahara met it, sword raised, and was pushed back, feet skidding across the dust. A second later Urahara's free hand whipped forwards, releasing a kidō blast that blew the monster into splattering pieces.

But Ichigo wasn't done yet. As the dust cleared, he reappeared, his missing left arm now replaced by a hollow's arm, armoured and clawed, and throbbing with scarlet power.

The cero exploded from Ichigo's new left hand, shooting towards Urahara, who blocked it with a hasty shield. He wasn't so lucky with Ichigo's next attack. It was the same one Ichigo had used in the arena to take out the adjuchas, but this time instead of white, the reiatsu was black and red and redolent of hollow stink.

The line it carved was more ravine than trench and the dust it threw up was choking. By the time it cleared, Urahara was obviously on the back foot, doing his best to defend against an Ichigo who was moving so fast there might as well have been ten of him. And not just sword attacks. Yasutora saw cero and kidō flying back and forth as the pair fought across the ground and sky.

Beside the barrier, Tsukabishi stood up straighter, his gaze locked on the fight. Looking for a signal, Yasutora guessed. And there it was. During a rare moment when he wasn't fighting for his life, Urahara raised the sheath of his zanpakutō and brought it down in a deliberate movement.

Tsukabishi immediately gestured towards the battlefield and, just like the kidō rope had done earlier, an x-shaped piece of cloth appeared from nowhere right above Ichigo, darting down to wrap around his body, though this time his arms were secured tightly behind his back. But the kidō didn't stop there. The cloth continued to come, slamming Ichigo face down, the long sheets winding out to the four corners as metal pegs shot from the sky, pinning the cloth, and Ichigo, to the ground.

"Level 90, with no incantation," Urahara puffed, reappearing outside the barrier. "You've been holding out on me." He was smiling but it looked a bit strained and his skin was raw in several places where Ichigo's attacks had caught him. "Unfortunately, with Ichigo's Quincy abilities, even a kidō that strong will only hold him for a while."

"Bankin?" Tsukabishi enquired.

Urahara pulled a face, his gaze flicking down the slope to where Ichigo still lay pinned, and for now, unmoving. "How long has it been?"

Tsukabishi raised his palm in front of him and breathed a single word. A burning candle divided into distinct sections shimmered to life within it. After a moment Tsukabishi replied, "Approximately twenty three minutes and fifty three seconds," and then folded his palm closed, the candle clock vanishing like it had never existed.

Definitely a wizard, Yasutora decided.

Urahara sighed. "Then I'd rather not. It's not been half an hour yet. Let me bring out the heavy guns first." He brushed the hair from his face and said, "But before we do that, tell me, Yasutora-kun, has Ichigo been injured lately?"

Yasutora frowned at the sudden question, casting his mind back. There'd been the superficial ones from his encounter with the hollow at the Pits, and presumably more later when he'd fought the lieutenant from the 7th, though Yasutora hadn't seen any of those himself.

"Or perhaps some medical procedure?" Urahara continued.

The bruising on the day of Jackie's funeral. On same arm that Urahara had just cut off. Yasutora nodded, "He said Unohana-taichō gave him a surprise medical."

"Did he now. That is interesting." Urahara's eyes narrowed, his mouth flattening before he added cryptically, " If he should prove lucky enough to survive this, you might want to suggest to him that he avoids the such things for the foreseeable future."

* * *

Ichigo stared in gape-mouthed shock as the hollow's reiatsu exploded outward in storm of black and red reiatsu. The thing knew his bankai? How the hell was that even possible? It hadn't even been here when he'd learnt bankai.

Then again, it hadn't been here when he learnt shikai either, and that didn't seem to stop it using the blade, and the techniques that went with it, with more aplomb than Ichigo could manage.

Which meant, maybe it had been there.

When the hollow had fought its way out of Zangetsu, Ichigo had kind of assumed that Urahara's sword had injected it in there, but what if the sword had simply released it? What if it had been there all along, like just a normal part of a shinigami's internal workings.

Since talking about your inner world was some kind of huge taboo that not even Renji would break, it could be, and Ichigo would never know. And it'd explain how the hell the hollow knew how to use Ichigo's zanpakutō so well.

Above him, the hollow, whose white shihakushō now included a calf-length ragged-edged coat and whose sword was now the size of a katana, was beating the shit out of Zangetsu. Its speed was mind-blowing. So fast it was leaving after images that made it look like there was ten of it, rather than a paltry one. And it wasn't limiting itself to simple blade work either. It was flinging different power levels of getsuga tenshō at every opportunity it had.

Most were getting parried by the chains the old man was now wielding more like blades. In fact, if Ichigo hadn't seen the weapons form and didn't have the manacle around his ankle as evidence that the chains could become rigid, he'd have thought they were swords. Swords made out of shadows, or whatever it was that Zangetsu's coat was made of.

Ichigo frowned. It still struck him as strange that the old man hadn't just made a sword for himself straight away, like he always had in the past when Ichigo entered his inner world. Back then, a sword simply appeared in his hand, so why hadn't he done it this time? What had changed?

Ichigo's gaze cut to the hollow.

Was it something to do with the sword the hollow was carrying? Had the hollow stolen it from Zangetsu and that was why Zangetsu couldn't use it himself?

But it was Zangetsu who the hollow had called a thief.

Old man Zangetsu, the spirit who'd been in Ichigo's inner world from the first time he'd come here. Who'd been both friend and mentor. Who'd taught him how to use his zanpakutō, who'd fought him long and hard, pushing Ichigo to new heights, before, gracious in defeat, handing over the name of his bankai.

So why was Ichigo doubting him? And on the word of a hollow, at that.

A year ago, this could never have happened. The naive boy who'd arrived in Soul Society last summer would have taken everything at face value. Hollow - bad, zanpakutō spirit - good. But Ichigo had changed, become more cynical, less trusting. He'd had to. Sure, he still wanted to believe the best of everyone, but Aizen had taught him that being wary was a good thing, that looking beyond the surface could pay off.

And that was what he needed to do now, because something here was very wrong.

As far as Ichigo knew, the only shinigami with two separate spirits were dual-wielders like Ukitake-taichō. And Ichigo didn't have two swords, he only had one. Thus one spirit.

But he did have two sets of abilities.

What was it Ryūken had said? That a part of that Quincy king guy was sealed inside all of them. Which meant maybe Ichigo should have two spirits: his zanpakutō and the remains of the Quincy king's soul fragment.

Ichigo's gaze rose once again to the battling figures above him. The one: a hollow, which was dressed in a shihakushō, looked just like Ichigo, and used Zangetsu like he was born to it, and the other: tall, older, mysterious, and possessing the ability to absorb and manipulate reiatsu and reishi, who the hollow had named thief, and from whose body the hollow had escaped when Urahara's sword had pierced him.

Put like that, the facts painted a very different picture. What Ichigo couldn't understand was how his zanpakutō spirit got hollowfied and then trapped inside a Quincy.

There was only one person he could ask.

"Oi!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Bastard!"

Neither of the two fighters in the sky so much as twitched in Ichigo's direction. Annoyed, Ichigo went to roll to his feet, and promptly got jabbed in the thigh by the bunch of keys in his jeans' pocket.

"Damn stupid things," he cursed, sticking his hand in to resettle them. Maybe he should just throw them out, it wasn't like they were much use, and hadn't been since the first time he'd come to his inner world. Then again, they were bulky enough that maybe he could chuck them at the hollow and get its attention that way.

He tugged the keys from his pocket and stood, tossing them gently in his hand as he considered angles. This was a one shot wonder. If he missed, the keys were going to come down way too far away to reach, what with this manacle around his leg.

The manacle.

Ichigo froze, his gaze dropping to the bunch of keys in his hand. The bunch of keys that included a ordinary looking Miwa key that was rusted all to hell, just like the hole in the manacle.

Seriously, sometimes he was way too stupid to live.

Ichigo dove for the ground, grabbed his foot and hauled his leg up and round. Somehow he managed to wrestle the right key into position. It slid home and turned with a grinding click. The manacle didn't open so much as collapse and at the same moment as it disintegrated into black gloop, someone above him let out a desperate soul-rending yell.

Ichigo bolted to his feet, searching the skies. It was Ossan, and he was… falling!

Without a second thought, Ichigo leapt skyward towards the plummeting figure with no thought but saving the spirit who had watched over him and helped him through so much of his time in Soul Society. So what if he was the remnant of a Quincy king and not a zanpakutō, he'd never been anything but kind to Ichigo.

For once, the old man's size proved useful. Ichigo was able to catch him by the hand as he fell, and lower him gently to the ground. He looked awful. Bruised and battered, burnt and exhausted. His glasses were gone, his face wrappings torn away, his dark cropped hair sticky with black blood, and when Ichigo knelt down, the hands that reached for him shook.

"I'm sorry," the spirit said, his voice as rich and mellow in the flesh as it had always been in Ichigo's head. "I never intended to deceive you."

"Liar!" the hollow snapped, landing beside them with his sword propped over his shoulder. "The minute I was born you had me on lock-down."

"A situation you were quite content with until that interfering shinigami hollowfied you."

Well, that explained that bit, at least.

"Content! I'll give you fucking content!" the hollow snarled, trying to lunge past Ichigo with his sword out.

Ichigo caught his arm before he could do any damage. "Quit it," he snapped.

The hollow stopped, and for a brief second Ichigo thought he'd won. Then that black and gold gaze turned on him, and something that was totally not like a smile stretched the hollow's lips. Its tongue, where it curled over its teeth, was blue like a chow dog's.

"Tell me, Ichigo," the hollow said, "What's the difference between a king and his horse?"

* * *

The heavy guns came in the form of more brightly clad figures, though these two were adult-sized and had a reiatsu level to match. They were also arguing furiously with each other as they moved down the hill towards Urahara.

"Three on one is simply insulting," the smaller one, wearing a cerise crop-top and matching baggy pants, was saying. "I don't know why Urahara-sama even called us out here. He should be able to handle this alone."

The other, taller by a good head and with a shock of bright blue hair above his garish orange jump suit, snarled back, "So keep out of it. Not like I need any help from you ta kick some pansy-ass."

"We'll see about that," the first one said sniffily, flopping his ridiculously long sleeves around as he spoke. If Yasutora hadn't spent the past year in Seireitei, he might have dismissed this one as just another pretty boy, but a year in the Pits had taught him not to judge by appearances, and the way the guy moved, all sleek grace and understated power, said 'fighter' as eloquently as his companion's more obvious swagger.

Despite the attitude, they both greeted Urahara with respectful bows. Ignoring the formalities, Urahara immediately began explaining something to them, gesturing to the surrounding rocks, when Ichigo suddenly twitched and the cloth which had been pinning him to the ground, disintegrated.

The first attack took all three by surprise, but it was the blue-haired fighter who responded quickest. He was on Ichigo the moment swords clashed, his attacks fast and furious, the whole of the ravine echoing to the sound of striking metal. There was no finesse to it, just power. Unrelenting, unfaltering power.

Ichigo retreated before the barrage, his clawed feet digging furrows in the dirt as he was pushed back and back again. Maybe Blue was right, Yasutora thought? Maybe he could handle Ichigo alone.

The first getsuga tenshō belied that. It cut through the air, swallowing Blue whole. He fell, skin burning, as Pink stepped up to join the fight. His style couldn't have been more different, all teasing strikes and deceptive speed. His weapon was a kodachi, a short sword, which gave Ichigo a huge advantage on reach. Undaunted, Pink compensated by attacking as he retreated, forcing Ichigo to over-extend himself again and again. Within moments, he'd drawn Ichigo away from where Blue had fallen.

In their wake, Blue staggered to his feet, his face twisted into a grimace of self-disgust even though the damage he'd sustained was already healing. This was going to be a battle of resilience, Yasutora realised, as Pink dodged in and slid his blade into Ichigo's chest to the hilt. Ichigo screamed, letting rip with a cero that should have taken Pink's head off. It sent him ploughing backwards instead, straight though one mound of rock and into the next.

Urahara made to step in, only to get shouldered aside by a snarling Blue, now fully healed and raring to go. Shrugging, Urahara allowed it and stood for a few moments watching the pair tag-team Ichigo before trudging back up the hill.

"It's times like these when I regret having to restructure the hollow part of the early models," he said as he rejoined Tsukabishi. "They were so much stronger in their original form."

Tsukabishi grunted slightly. "They were also unpredictably violent and impossible to control."

"There is that," Urahara agreed philosophically, and turned to watch the fight.

* * *

"What?" Ichigo said, because seriously, was this guy even real?

The hollow flicked a dismissive hand, "And I ain't talking some kiddy crap about numbers of legs either. Two beings, both with the same strength, but one pulls the reins while the other carries the load. I'm asking why? What makes them different?"

Ichigo could kind of see what the hollow was asking, what he couldn't work out was why. What had kings and horses got to do with anything?

Not that it mattered, he wasn't given a chance to respond anyway. The hollow grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him in so close that Ichigo was staring straight into those burning golden eyes. "I'll tell ya, shall I, 'king'. Instinct!" It screamed the word into Ichigo's face, its hold turning into a throw.

Ichigo flew, right over the hollow's head to land flat on his back. Winded, it took him a moment to work out where he was and by then the hollow was on him. Sword out, it came at full speed, cackling that odd high-pitched laugh. Ichigo dodged, but it was last minute and scrambled.

The hollow never gave him a moment to recover. It grabbed Ichigo by the shirt again and this time when it threw Ichigo, it followed the move up with words. "If yer want power, ya have to have the instinct to take it. Fight for it. Crush yer enemies without mercy, rip 'em apart and grind 'em to dust under yer fucking heel!"

The wall hit Ichigo in the back like a battering ram. Choking, he dropped to his knees trying to win back breath. He failed to do it in time. The kick caught him in the ribs before he could move and he felt something give as yet again the world spun around him. The hollow's words rang in his ears. "Tear me down to nothing but bones and you'll still find it, engraved into every cell. The lust for battle, the instinct to fight, and ya know what, Ichigo?"

Another wall, another blow. "You don't got it. Yer nothing but a wishy-washy moma's-boy. Look at you, in yer human clothes, still tryin' ta find the good in people. Well, fuck that! Reason ain't got no place on the battlefield, you ain't gonna kill anyone without drawing yer sword. And that-"

Head reeling, Ichigo found himself yanked up by the front of the shirt yet again, the hollow's face pressed into his own, its breath rank against his face. "That, you fucker, is why yer always gonna be weaker than me!"

The sword stabbed through him like a brand, hot agony spilling out along his nerves. Still on his knees, Ichigo stared down at it, hands hovering like they wanted to touch but were too scared, too weak.

"Now, I dunno about the other guy, but I ain't carrying around someone who's weaker than me. Someone who ends up getting us both killed."

His sword, his zanpakutō. How had this happened? How had he let things get this far?

"Which is why I'm gonna crush you and become the king!"

Instinct.

His sword.

His zanpakutō.

His.

Instinct.

Hands moved, grasping the blade. His blade. The blade of _his_ zanpakutō.

Certainty surged through Ichigo. He felt it collide with the hollow, felt their wills clash and the hollow pull away, skipping back across the side of the building, its face twisted in shocked confusion. In retreat, yes, but not defeated. Not yet.

He should do something about that.

Do… something…

The world blurred and suddenly Byakuya's voice said, "I had hoped you were right person to leave in charge. Now see that I was wrong."

Ichigo lifted his head and blinked. Around him lay the smoking ruins of the 6th division, the rubble strewn with bodies. Koniwa's head lay some distance away, the long ponytail drenched in blood. Hashigawa's powerful torso lay further still, and from some nearby place came the sound of screams which Ichigo knew belonged to his sister.

* * *

Pink was the first to fall. Outmatched in speed, Ichigo's blow bisected him from right shoulder to left hip, the two parts tumbling in opposite directions even as Ichigo spun away searching for his next prey. Behind him swung the main reason for his victory; a long heavy tail, the perfect counterbalance for someone fighting at full reach.

The other mod, Blue, was already injured and without Pink to tag him, he wasn't going to last long.

Outside the barrier, Tsukabishi raised his staff, intent obvious in the set of his jaw. But before he could start an incantation, Urahara laid a hand on his biceps. "No," he said quietly. "There's one more option."

Tsukabishi frowned down at him. "If you insist. However, should he defeat you, I will seal him without hesitation."

"Oh good," Urahara said, not sounding it in the slightest.

Stepping forward, zanpakutō already drawn, he lifted his hand to his face. Flecks of white gathered to his fingertips, building rapidly into a plain white mask with black and red markings around the eyes reminiscent of a noble-woman's make-up. It was pretty, feminine almost, if you ignored the mouth, which stretched from ear to ear in an absurdly wide slash of a smile.

Urahara slipped the mask over his face and turned, his eyes burning black and gold. "Dying would be more than a little inconvenient at this point," he said, his voice now carrying echoes of a hollow within.

* * *

Ichigo shook his head. "This isn't real," he said, forcing the words out past the emotion strangling his throat. Because it could be, all to easily if he didn't get back in time.

"Who cares about real," Renji's voice said from behind him.

Ichigo looked back over his shoulder and sure enough, there was the red-head, standing amongst the rubble with Zabimaru propped over his shoulder. Except this Renji's expression was all wrong. The real Renji never looked at Ichigo that way, with judgement in his eyes and a cruel twist to his lips. Not to mention, the last time Ichigo had seen Renji, Zabimaru had been sealed away.

"We are simply here to reinforce how pathetic you are," Byakuya's voice came again.

Ichigo turned eyes front and found Byakuya standing over him, disappointment writ large on his face. That was more typical of how things worked, but even so it rang wrong.

The eyes were cold. If this was really Byakuya, they would hold a volcano's banked heat.

Ichigo reached for his sword, and found nothing.

"See, what'd I tell you," Renji said, strolling round to stand next to Byakuya. "Weak."

"Pathetic," Byakuya corrected. "Ichigo has never lacked strength, he simply lacks the resolve to use it. Hence…" he waved a hand at the devastation around them.

"But this isn't real!" Ichigo protested, pushing to his feet. "The 6th is fine. I'm looking after it, just like I promised you guys I would. That's why I'm here, getting bankai."

"You can't have bankai if you're not a shinigami," Renji said, jabbing a finger at Ichigo. "And that ain't a shinigami's uniform."

Ichigo glanced down at himself. He was wearing what he always wore in his inner world: jeans and a t-shirt.

"Also, you have no zanpakutō," Byakuya added.

"You're right," Renji agreed, nodding sagely. "He's useless. It'd be a kindness really."

Byakuya's lips narrowed infinitesimally. "I'm afraid you may well be right," he said, and drew his sword.

"Hang on a minute," Ichigo said, raising his hands. "What d'you mean, 'a kindness'?"

"What d'you think we mean," Renji asked, running his hand along Zabimaru and activating his shikai. "We ain't here to listen to some sob story from a kid who can't get his act together, that's for certain."

"Indeed," Byakuya said, releasing Senbonzakura. "Rather, we are here to kill you."

As a thousand blades sliced through the air and then his skin, Ichigo did the only thing he could. He reached inside himself for the power that had always been there, drew it around himself and manifested. A moment later, when Zabimaru's toothed blade plunged towards him, Ichigo met it with steel, parrying it aside as he stepped into shunpo, determined to avoid Senbonzakura's next strike.

It never came. Instead, it was Kyōraku-taichō who stepped through the dust to meet him.

"Well, well, that's definitely an improvement," the solemn captain said, shaking his head. "Though you're still relying too much on those Quincy abilities of yours, boy."

"Eh?" Ichigo said, because how else was he supposed to get his zanpakutō.

Kyōraku nodded at Ichigo's blade. "Do you really think that sham is the same as these?" With a hiss of steel, he drew both his swords. Light gleamed off their edges. "Katen Kyōkotsu. I have had them for two thousand years, give or take a little, and never once, in all that time, have they left my side."

Never? Ichigo couldn't count the number of times he'd manifested Zangetsu.

"Tell me, Shiba-kun, how can something so easily created have any worth?" Kyōraku continued. "With permanence comes power, and only those with power can hope to achieve true victory." As he spoke, Kyōraku leapt.

Instinctively, Ichigo raised his sword to counter Kyōraku's pair. For a brief second it held, then the blade crumbled. Ichigo caught a glimpse of Kyōraku's triumphant expression and felt the bite of a blade at his shoulder before the world blurred again and he was back on his knees, with his own sword through his gut.

His own sword. The one based on the physical sword Urahara had thrust through him out there in the real world. An asauchi, it had to be. That was why the hollow had been able to take it and infuse it with its own abilities so quickly. The one the old man used must be like the one Ichigo manifested, based on Quincy abilities, not shinigami.

Was the point of this to make him chose? The hollow spoke of a king and his horse, about one power dominating another by instinct. And it had attacked the old man without mercy once it'd escaped.

Not that the old man hadn't deserved it. The chains that Ichigo had always assumed were rooted in the promises he made, had to have been keeping Ichigo's zanpakutō spirit trapped so the Quincy could use its abilities as his own. A king and his horse. No wonder the hollow was so pissed. It'd been wrongfully imprisoned for its entire existence.

It was Quincy versus shinigami all over again.

But it didn't have to be that way, Ichigo's parents had proved that. Somehow they'd made it work, and anyway, being a Quincy was as much a part of Ichigo's heritage as being a shinigami. Choosing between them would be like choosing between Mom and Dad, and there was no way he could do that. He needed to find a way of getting them to work together.

Having said that, Kyōraku's demonstration had shown that Ichigo needed a real zanpakutō if he was to win against his enemies. Luckily all he needed to do to get one, was take it back off the hollow.

Metaphorically speaking, that was. All he actually needed to do was pull it out of his own belly.

Without letting himself stop and think it over, Ichigo grabbed the blade and yanked.

* * *

Masked, Urahara was managing to hold his own, just. To start with, Blue had helped, but a double-handed black-tinged cero from Ichigo had blown half his torso away and he hadn't moved since, so for the past few minutes, Urahara had been fighting alone, and Yasutora was starting to get worried.

Not that he hadn't been before. There wasn't much of Ichigo left that wasn't hollowfied, and that alone was enough to have Yasutora pressed to the barrier with every nerve jangling. But this new development was worse because Tsukabishi was starting to stir, and Yasutora had a bad feeling that whatever he planned to do to Ichigo would be permanent, and probably fatal.

Shooting the wizard a nervous look, Yasutora considered asking what, exactly, bankin was, then decided against it. He didn't need to know if Ichigo was going to be blown to pieces or locked inside a one inch cube. Either would be as bad as the other. What he needed was some way of stopping it from happening at all.

"Let me fight," he said when Tsukabishi shifted again, transferring his staff from one hand to the other. "Urahara-san needs help. I'm Ichigo's friend. If he's lost in there, I might be able to reach him."

The look he got somehow managed to combine disparaging with respectful. "A noble thought, however you would not last a minute without this barrier to protect you," Tsukabishi said solemnly.

Frustrating but probably true. The levels of reiatsu blasting around out there were easily on a par with Ukitake-taichō's, and when that had been turned on him with a purpose, Yasutora hadn't even been able to stay on his feet, despite being in shikai. "So you go and fight," he suggested. "You're a shinigami. Use your zanpakutō to help your friend."

Tsukabishi's back and shoulders stiffened. For a moment Yasutora thought he was going to ignore the suggestion, then he said quietly. "I'm afraid that is not possible. My zanpakutō is no longer a sword."

Gaze flicking to the staff, Yasutora said, "Fight with that then. Or use kidō." Do something, because what sort of person stood there and watched their friend getting hurt when they had the ability to help them.

Tsukabishi's eyes narrowed slightly. "You misunderstand. I don't fight because I choose not to, but because Urahara requested me not to."

To keep Tsukabishi safe? Unlikely. That sounded too noble for the devious Urahara that Ichigo had described and that Yasutora had seen in action. So why keep this man out of the fight?

"Why?" Yasutora asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Because I am the last line of defence," Tsukabishi replied immediately. "If I fall, there will be nothing stopping your friend from escaping into Seireitei and slaughtering anyone he finds there." Which neatly, and frustratingly, demolished any argument Yasutora might have made in favour of Tsukabishi putting himself at risk.

Defeated for the moment, Yasutora turned his attention back to the fight, and to Urahara attempting to pin Ichigo with some form of kidō net from his zanpakutō. It held long enough for half of it to explode before Ichigo was free again, charging towards Urahara on one leg, the other regenerating as he came. Before they even made contact, Yasutora could see who was going to come out on top.

* * *

It hurt like a mother-fucker. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Ichigo spun the sword between his fingers, clasped the hilt, and levelled the blade at the hollow, who was now staring at him as though it was expecting their roles to be reversed imminently. It was tempting, Ichigo had to admit, but he had a feeling that 'killing' the hollow wouldn't help.

"You gonna try taking it back?" he asked.

The hollow's expression turned sly. "Not right now," it said, "But you'd better watch out, 'king', 'cause I'm always gonna be here-"

"Waiting in the wings, just looking for an opportunity. Blah, blah. Yeah, I get it. You're a bad ass." It kind of reminded Ichigo of the thugs who hung around outside school looking for weaker kids to pick on. They backed off quick enough when someone who knew how to fight turned up, but it was only ever temporary. And if he was going to get this to work, he needed the hollow's co-operation, not its grudging submission.

"How about I offer an alternative."

"To being king?" the hollow replied disbelievingly. "Can't see what you could offer that'd be better than taking over your body and having myself a nice little rampage."

And it had the nerve to complain about Ichigo getting them killed. That was the trouble with pure instinct. Sure it had its place on the battlefield, the hollow was right about that, but the decision of _who_ to fight and when had to be a rational one, otherwise there would be nothing but mindless slaughter. And Ichigo knew there was a lot more to being a shinigami than that.

"That's not gonna happen," Ichigo said. He lifted the sword and made a leap of logic, hoping he'd got it right. "Now I've got this, you and I both know there's nothing stopping me from taking the old man's side and sealing you away inside him again." The hollow froze, eyes widening. Ichigo ignored it and kept speaking, his arms widening in a gesture that encompassed all of his inner world. "Or, I can let you stay free and acknowledge you for who you are. My zanpakutō; Zangetsu."

Going by the hollow's expression, Ichigo hit a nerve. It looked hopeful, almost desperate. But it wasn't ready to give in just yet. "What about him," it asked, shooting a glance at the old man, who had climbed to his feet and was slowly making his way towards them. "If I agree, what happens to him, 'cause I ain't sharing. Not after what he did."

"And I won't leave him behind," Ichigo replied. But there was an alternative. Ichigo reached into his pocket and pulled out the bunch of keys. Or the pair of keys, he guessed he should say, since the Miwa key had vanished along with the manacle when Ichigo had taken his Quincy abilities back from the old man, and the Zangetsu shaped key fob hadn't been there since the first time.

Just as he'd thought, the swirly bit on the brass key wasn't some random design, it was the Shiba mon, the same one that Yasutora wore on his uniform and was engraved on Zangetsu's blade when it was in its sealed form.

Ichigo tugged it off the the ring and held it out, wrapped safe in the palm of his hand. And just as the key fob had done all those months ago, the key warmed and changed shape in his hand, lengthening and thickening until he held not a key, but a short blade in a cracked leather sheath.

"I've got two spirits inside me," he said, "Two separate powers, so I'll need two swords to carry them both into battle." Ichigo raised his eyes to look at the hollow. "You're Zangetsu, my zanpakutō. Nothing can change that. But the Shiba aren't just shinigami, not anymore. We're Quincy too.

"Ossan?" Ichigo shifted his gaze to the Quincy spirit who'd finally joined them. "I want you to have this." He held out the ancient heirloom whose possession declared Ichigo the head of the Shiba clan. "It belonged to Dad, who's a shinigami, but he fell in love with Mom, who was a Quincy, so I reckon he wouldn't mind you having it. Or living in it, or however the hell that works. And if he doesn't, well…. I dunno, he'll just have to suck it up or something…"

Done with speechifying, hopefully for the next century, Ichigo kind of drifted to a halt. Neither spirit reacted, beyond staring at the two blades and after a couple of minutes, when it got kind of awkward, Ichigo added, "Either way, it'll mean that both of you've a place to belong. If you want to. I mean, I guess its kind of up to you guys to choose."

* * *

Urahara went down so fast, Yasutora didn't see it happen.

Tsukabishi apparently did. He grabbed his staff in both hands and raised it, holding it horizontal to the ground as an incantation rolled fluidly off his tongue. "Way of Binding, level ninety nine, type two; Bankin! First song - Halting Wrap!"

What looked like a spray of liquid silk exploded from both ends of the staff, catching Ichigo halfway up the slope and swallowing him whole before snapping ruthlessly into wraps that covered him from head to toe like a mummy.

He screamed, pure rage and frustration. "Second song," Tsukabishi chanted, raising his voice so as to be heard above the din, "One Hundred Gate Bolts!" The staff spun once, and shafts of metal came from everywhere, thunking into Ichigo's chest and back, pinning the wraps into place.

Yasutora slammed his fists into the barrier in some kind of protest, but it was pointless, Tsukabishi didn't even pause. Halting the staff's spin, he slammed its tip into the ground. "Final song - Ban-kin Tai-ho! Constriction Seal!"

A huge metal cube suddenly appeared high above in the sky. It hovered for a brief second before plummeting groundward, its speed increasing exponentially with every foot it fell. It was like a hammer, a piston. Anything caught beneath it would be obliterated, even an out-of-control hollowfied shinigami.

Yasutora looked away, hearing rather than seeing the cube hit. The ground shook, the air outside the barrier filled with choking levels of dust, and the hollow's rage-filled screams stopped.

Tsukabishi waved a hand in front of his face, coughing slightly. "I'm sorry that was necessary," he said after a moment. "It would have been preferable-"

Ichigo exploded out of the dust-cloud, a cero already boiling in his hand. Tsukabishi was swiped aside almost like an afterthought, his body limp before it touched the ground. The cero slammed into the barrier, blowing the whole thing into nothing, and then Ichigo was on him.

Yasutora raised his fists, Morinari roaring forwards in response to the challenge. The tekko's horns screeched across hollow armour, not strong enough to penetrate. A clawed hand grabbed the front of Yasutora's top and he caught a glimpse of malice-filled eyes before a cero's virulent scarlet light half-blinded him.

Thoughts, piecemeal and desperate, skittered across Yasutora's mind.

This was it. He was going to die. At the hands of his best friend. And then Ichigo was going to escape from this underground room and start killing people in Seireitei.

He should have been able to stop this. If he'd been strong enough, clever enough, skilled enough. But he wasn't, and now never would be. At this point, the most Yasutora could hope for was that there wasn't enough of Ichigo left to comprehend what he was doing, because, if the hollow didn't utterly destroy him, knowing he was responsible for so much mindless death, would.

"I'm sorry," Yasutora murmured as the cero's power swelled higher, the light of hollow's eyes burning behind it.

At the sound of Yasutora's voice, the eyes widened, the malice draining from them along with the black, and suddenly it was Ichigo looking out at him.

"Shit," he said, voice still echoing like the hollow's but recognisably Ichigo. Then, with a sound like a thousand pencils snapping, Ichigo's armour began to crack. "Shit!" he said again, and this time he sounded worried.

Ichigo's hold on Yasutora suddenly vanished, and so did Ichigo. He reappeared for a second back down the bottom of the slope, close by where Urahara had fallen, and then he vanished again. This time Yasutora didn't see where he went, but he heard it. A massive explosion went up behind one of the hills. Yasutora took off running, using short steps of shunpo to get where he needed to be in the shortest possible time.

He arrived to find Ichigo lying face down, body complete but clothes in tatters, and all traces of the hollow gone except for a mask lying on the ground beside him.

Yasutora lunged towards him and rolled him onto his back, half afraid Ichigo was either dead or still possessed.

A bleary looking Ichigo blinked up at him, brows fluttering into a slight frown. "Chad?" he muttered.

It was him. And he was alive. A huge knot of fear unravelled in Yasutora's chest. "You okay?" he asked.

"Ah," Ichigo sighed, eyes closing in obvious exhaustion. After a second, they flicked open again and Ichigo's frown deepened. "Hang on," he said. "Didn't you have something to tell me?"


	22. Steal Your Place (Not Your Face)

The upside of only having one spirit inside his zanpakutō was that Ichigo could finally get the thing out of shikai for a decent amount of time. Sure, it felt odd not having that reassuring weight on his back, but it'd be a hell of a lot more convenient when he had to do everyday things like sit down quickly without stabbing himself.

For now, Ichigo had taken a page out of Kyōraku's book and tucked both swords through the left side of his obi. Urahara had taken one look at them and started burbling something about Ichigo looking like a proper warrior now, before Chad had stepped up and very satisfyingly punched the meddling asshole in the nose. Hopefully he'd end up with two back eyes to go with his smashed leg.

They hadn't hung around long after that. Ichigo left the underground chamber to the sounds of some blue-haired moron demanding a rematch, and hyper-aware of that wizard guy's eyes watching him go. That had been a shock. Staggering back over to where the fight had happened and discovering one of the people he'd taken out was the kidō-master who'd sealed Renji.

Ichigo hadn't known what to say, so he hadn't said anything. The whole thing was too much of a shitstorm to do more than ignore people and move on anyway. Sure Ichigo had come out of it a hell of a lot stronger and more in control of his abilities, but he'd come too damn close to killing Chad to make it worth it. If the two spirits hadn't chosen exactly when they had, and if Chad hadn't spoken up when he did, Ichigo might have come back to a very different world.

And the real one was bad enough, if what Chad had said about the 6th and 13th was true.

_Tch, you got bankai. They ain't got no choice but to listen to ya now, king,_ the hollow grumbled in his head.

_Even so, it could be a tricky situation,_ Ossan put in immediately, his tone disapproving. _It wouldn't do to go in unprepared, Ichigo._

Distracted by their voices, Ichigo stumbled. Exhaustion was making his shunpo sloppy if he didn't stay focused, and those two were as distracting as hell when they got going. Somehow he needed to find a way to block them out until he wanted to hear them.

Slowing down a second, Ichigo tried to work out exactly where he was. Past the 4th and moving along the edge of the 10th's patrol area it looked like. The 6th was close. Another hundred steps or so and he'd be there, where he should have been all along. In fact, if he picked up his pace, he might make it even faster. Seventy steps. Or fifty even, if he didn't mind keeling over at the other end.

A glance back over his shoulder showed that idea was a non-starter. Chad was barely keeping up as it was. Any increase in speed and he'd get left behind and, much as Ichigo'd love to give the big guy a lift, he simply didn't have the strength for it. Not until he ate something anyway. Right now, he was running on fumes, so one hundred steps it would have to be.

He counted them off in his head while casting his senses wide, looking for any incoming threats. Perhaps it was having bankai, or something to do with the hollow, but they definitely felt sharper. Like, if he concentrated hard enough, he'd be able to sense even the smallest of reiatsu traces.

Or lack of reiatsu.

Ichigo stopped mid-shunpo, reaching out a hand and snagging Chad out of the air as he slogged past, because that was one signature he'd never expected to see out and about alone.

"You said you took Hanatarō back to the 6th, yeah?" Ichigo asked, once they were standing together on the same roof top. The sun hadn't risen yet, though the eastern horizon was starting to pale.

Chad nodded. "Hisana put him in the backroom of the lieutenant's office."

That made sense. It was a defensible space that Ichigo knew Hanatarō felt safe in. So maybe what he was sensing below was another negator? Either way, he couldn't just walk by.

Shooting a curt, "Stay up here," to Chad, Ichigo dropped down to ground level and navigated closer to the strange patch of nothingness that had first grabbed his attention. It led him to a narrow space between two buildings, choked with rubbish and pitch dark at this time of the morning. From far back in, he could hear the sound of someone quietly crying.

"Hanatarō?" Ichigo called.

The crying stopped with a gulped hiccough, and a, "Shi-Shiba-sama?"

It _was_ Hanatarō. Ichigo ploughed forward, pushing aside a half-rotted futon and disturbing a whole family of rats in the process. Furry bodies shot in all directions, half of them right over Ichigo's feet it felt like, their sharp claws catching like needles against his tabi. Ichigo bit back a yelp of surprise and took the next few steps extra carefully, wary of what else might jump out at him. The deeper into the shadows he went, the more the air stank like rotting food and leaf litter.

"Hanatarō?" he called again, peering blindly into the darkness. His reiatsu radar told him Hanatarō was directly ahead, but Ichigo was damned if he could see the little guy.

Something grabbed his leg. Ichigo let out a shriek that was in no way girlish and jumped about half a foot in the air.

"Ichigo?" Chad called from the roof above at the same moment as Hanatarō squeaked, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Hanatarō?" Surprise forgotten at the terrified quaver in Hanatarō's voice, Ichigo hunkered down and sure enough, there was the little guy, kneeling in the filth, his clothes covered in something Ichigo didn't want to even try and identify. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Ichigo asked, holding out a hand.

"I-I was looking for you, Shiba-sama," Hanatarō replied, his words hurried and stumbling over each other as he groped for Ichigo's hand. When he finally latched on, Ichigo hauled him to his feet while he was still trying to explain. "Sh-Shin-san said to c-come… I r-ran as far as I could but there was a pa-patrol. And they almost caught me so I ran. B-but then I was lost, and the sun was coming up, s-so I hid."

Rather than forcing Hanatarō to tramp back through the filth, Ichigo hopped them both up onto the roofs to rejoin Chad. Compared to the darkness of the alley, it was like daylight up above, so when he set Hanatarō down, Ichigo could suddenly see exactly why it'd taken the little guy so long to find Ichigo's hand. The odd baggy skin over what was left of his face looked like someone had used it as a punching bag.

"I thought you said you avoided the patrol?" Ichigo demanded, catching Hanatarō's chin gently and tugging his hood back to get a better look.

"N-not the patrol. It was S-soifon-fukutaichō," Hanatarō replied. "Sh-she…. Koniwa-sanseki said that S-Sagara-fukutaichō and Sado-san had ki-kidnapped you. H-He called for help from Shihōin-sama, except she wasn't there, so it was S-Soifon-fukutaichō who came and she… and she… and she…"

Hanatarō couldn't seem to get any further. Not that Ichigo needed him to. The bit about Koniwa tied into what Chad had said, and Soifon was 2nd division. They didn't have a reputation for being bastards for nothing. And now they were loose in the 6th, thinking that Hisana had kidnapped and probably killed him.

This was just getting better and better.

"We need to get back," Chad said, which, yeah, the quicker they did that the better. Except ploughing straight into the middle of what could turn out to be a captain versus lieutenant fight in the state he was in now was asking to get his ass kicked. If there was any chance at all of him having to face Soifon, Ichigo needed to eat something first, and at this time of the morning most of the food stalls would be closed.

_So take a bite outta the big guy_ the hollow warbled in his head. _Not like you ain't been looking for an excuse._

_Unlike you, Ichigo doesn't eat his friends, _Ossan retorted snidely.

_I dunno. Reckon I remember him getting a decent mouthful or two._

Ichigo could have ignored the innuendo, but the hollow's dirty snigger sent the blush straight to his cheeks. _Just shut the fuck up, you guys,_ he snapped. Seriously, he needed to find a way of cutting these two off before they drove him totally mad.

_Gutter brain aside,_ Ossan said, _You do have other options if food isn't readily available._

That was true. He hadn't considered it earlier because Chad couldn't really do kidō, plus Ichigo knew that anything of that sort around his friend was asking for trouble. Let's just the say the hollow had good instincts about where Ichigo's appetites might lie.

But Hanatarō was different. For one thing, he was naturally resistant to the whole reishi absorption thing, so Ichigo couldn't munch down on him. The only problem was whether the little negator was going to sound the alarm. Ichigo had no idea if that was a conscious reaction or if it was hardwired.

"Hey, Hanatarō," he said, his eyes fixed on the slowly lightening horizon. "What'd happen if someone started using Quincy abilities right now?"

The question seemed to pull Hanatarō out of his shocky funk. He stopped clutching at his hakama and cocked his head at Ichigo, doing that thing where he stared intently only with no eyes. After a moment or two, he said, "I don't think anything would happen, Shiba-sama, so long as it was just you and you weren't hurting anyone. Though it would need to be quick."

So it was under his control, at least a bit. Ichigo nodded, "In that case, d'you think you could make one of those tasty kidō snacks for me again?"

Beneath bruised folds of skin, Hanatarō mouth twitched into a smile. "Of course, Shiba-sama! It'd be my pleasure." He held out his hand, a little ball of red quickly forming in the centre. Ichigo waited until it stopped growing, then placed his hand on top of it and 'sucked'.

The kidō vanished with a pop and the power jolted through Ichigo like a shot of pure adrenaline. "Shit," he gasped, bending over and grabbing his knees as his head spun. After a second, a heavy hand came to rest gently on the back of his neck. Chad, just letting him know that he could take all the time he needed. Damn, but it was good to have someone he trusted watching his back again.

The spinning cleared quickly, leaving Ichigo with that odd fake energised feeling he remembered from too many late nights, studying. Red Bull had a lot to answer for. But it would get him through. If Soifon kicked off, he'd even be able to go bankai on her ass.

* * *

The 6th looked deceptively quiet. Having left Chad with Hanatarō and instructions to head straight for the Shiba hideout in Rukongai if this went badly, Ichigo went straight over the gate, and found who he was looking for almost immediately. All he had to do was follow the sound of Soifon's voice, all the way to the crowd of shinigami gathered in the back courtyard. She was holding forth from the walkway that ran along outside the captain's office. The whole area had been pretty much demolished during Ichigo's fight with the hollowfied Miyako, but there was enough of the structure left to give her a decent speaking platform.

And for her to exhibit her prisoners.

Kneeling at her feet were Hisana and Take, both looking worse for wear. They were bound with kidō and seeing them brought back a sudden visceral memory for Ichigo, of being in much the same position at Byakuya's feet not so long ago. There had been a reason for that. There was, if Ichigo understood what was going on here, something of a reason for this. Whether it turned out to be a good enough one to save Soifon's life remained to be seen.

"We understand that you have been going through a difficult time," Soifon was saying, "but that is no excuse not to act. For a long time we have suspected a Rukongai plot. The 13th was the first to fall to their foul machinations. Brave Ukitake-taichō's successor is nothing more than a gaki brought within these hallowed walls to serve as a scullery boy. Today, I bring these traitors before you as proof that this scum will stop at nothing to bring down all that we pure souls care about. They have struck at the very heart of Seireitei, dirtying their hands with noble blood."

The crowd ooh-ed and ah-ed at her words. Reiatsu ruthlessly suppressed, Ichigo skirted his way around the edge of the crowd, heading for the backstairs of the building. If Soifon picked up any trace of his arrival, she didn't let it slow her down. He took the steps three at a time.

When he confronted Soifon, it needed to happen in front of everyone, seated and common soldiery alike, because one of the women being held up there was their lieutenant, the other, their comrade, and Ichigo wanted to see the faces of the shinigami who'd allowed them to be taken without a fight. He wasn't often disgusted with people but right now if a hollow attacked the 6th, he might just cheer it on.

"Thanks to the brave testimony of your third seat, Koniwa Moppo," Soifon continued, "these traitors will soon die for their crimes. But you, the 6th division of the Gotei 13, should not remain leaderless. You, who have a long tradition of being led by a member of a noble house, must act now. My mistress, the gracious Shihōin Yoruichi-sama, currently has no unit at her command. Should you offer yourselves up, there is no doubt in my mind that she would willingly take the mantle of 6th division captain. All that is needed, is for you to ask."

As she came to the end of her little pep talk, Ichigo emerged from the shadows behind her, and said, "I sure hope you got Yoruichi's permission before you started speaking for her."

Soifon's reaction was everything Ichigo had hoped it might be. She was 2nd division, her speed and agility were second only to Yoruichi's, but even a ninja's speed couldn't beat a captain who was prepared for the attack.

Ichigo blocked her instinctive kick with his forearm and unleashed his newly boosted reiatsu. It thundered out across the courtyard, dropping some of the rank and file where they stood. Others wavered on their feet, fighting the urge to drop to their knees. It slowed Soifon down just enough for her to realise who she was facing. Not just a captain, but the head of the Shiba clan. Her superior in every way that counted to a member of the minor nobility.

She stopped attacking immediately, her body snapping to attention and dropping into a respectful bow. "Shiba-taichō!" she gasped, then paused for just long enough for her next words to sound genuine and not contrived, "My apologies for entering your division without permission, however I received intelligence that you had been kidnapped and possibly murdered."

"Intelligence that turned out to be wrong," Ichigo replied, reining in his reiatsu.

Down below, people began to stir, and Ichigo heard his name spreading through the crowd like blood through water. "Shiba-taichō. It's Shiba-taichō. He's back. He's alive!"

Some of the voices sounded delighted, others not so much. For a second Ichigo regretted leaving Chad outside since he hadn't a hope of remembering where the cursing was coming from. Then he saw Hisana, battered and bound sure, but with her head inclined so she could peer down through the railings. Ichigo relaxed. Hisana might not be the biggest powerhouse in Seireitei, but she was one of the smartest, and Ichigo would happily bet his life on her being able to remember each and every one of the people who had moved against him today.

Soifon still hadn't replied. Ichigo switched his attention back to her, and raised an eyebrow. Her gaze darted to his face and then away again, and that was when Ichigo knew. This hadn't been done with malice. For some reason, Soifon had actually believed the story Koniwa had brought her, and buoyed up by her own resentment at Urahara being given the 2nd division, she had tried to put things right.

Perhaps she'd thought, with another division secured, she could persuade her mistress to take the 2nd back again, leaving Urahara out in the cold at the 6th. Who knew. But now Soifon knew the truth, she wasn't going to fight him for it, and that was all that mattered to Ichigo. Despite what she might have done to his people, he didn't want to fight. Not when it was touch and go whether he could actually make bankai or not.

"Gives my regards to your mistress," he said, raising his voice to make sure it carried. "And if you _ever_ set foot in my division again without my express permission, I will regard you as a trespasser and terminate you immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Shiba-taichō-sama," Soifon responded, dipping another respectful bow before vanishing in a flit of shunpo that Ichigo would have been pushed to track, had he felt inclined. He didn't. He was more concerned with getting his two friends untied and up off their knees.

Thankfully, the kidō holding them failed almost as soon as Soifon left. It must have needed her close by to keep working. Ichigo offered one hand each to Hisana and Take, and hauled them to their feet. "Any serious injuries?" he asked, "Or did Soifon-fukutaichō just use you as punching bags like she did Hanatarō?"

"We're good," Take replied, dusting off her hakama, though Ichigo noticed she winced when she bent over and the right side of her face was badly bruised. "Not so sure about Shin though. He was the one who got the little guy out. She caught him at it and hit him with something. Not kidō, it was some kind of weapon. Punched a hole in his chest and left this butterfly mark on him."

"Wuz 'er zan-kak-tō," Hisana slurred, sounding like she didn't want to move her jaw anymore than she had to. Broken? More than likely. The 2nd knew how to punch to make it hurt.

"Where is he?" Ichigo asked Take.

"Guardhouse. Koniwa's with him. Or was. Bastard's probably done a runner by now."

Not needing to know any more, Ichigo leapt the railing and landed in the courtyard below. The crowd scattered silently before him like a bow wave as he strode through them towards the guardhouse. Mutters followed, but none that offered more than surprise and relief that their captain was back and well enough to send a lieutenant packing.

Perhaps there wouldn't be a need for retribution after all. Now the initial anger had died away, Ichigo even kind of understood why his people might have opened the gates to Soifon and let her take prisoners. At least the 2nd wasn't the 11th or the 12th, and with Yoruichi in charge they'd have had a new captain who understood everything the 6th stood for.

When he got to the far end of the complex, Ichigo discovered that some quick-thinker had barred the guardhouse door from the outside, so unless Koniwa had some kind of amazing ability Ichigo didn't know about, he had to still be in there.

But in what way? Was he going to be waiting to attack just the other side of the door, or would he be grovelling for forgiveness. Honestly, Ichigo hadn't a clue. He didn't know the guy well enough to tell. He'd always come over as a bit of an ass, but when he'd thought that something bad had happened to his captain, however misguided that belief might have been, he'd had the guts to do something about it.

There was only one way to find out. Ichigo took a deep breath and kicked open the door.

Koniwa was waiting for him, but not to pounce or grovel. He was kneeling in the middle of the guard's area, stripped naked to the waist, his long pony-tail a streak of black over one shoulder, and he was holding the tip of a dagger to his stomach.

At the sound of the door, he looked up. His eyes were haunted, guilt-ridden, but there was no sign of fear in them. "I have brought shame on myself and my family," he said, his voice far steadier than his hands. "My death is the only atonement I have to offer. Please accept my apology, taichō." And with that, he drove the blade into his belly.

Ichigo practically teleported the distance between them, grabbing Koniwa's hands before he could do anything else stupid, like yank the blade out and cut himself again.

"Shit," he cursed, then bellowed, "Oi! Someone! Anyone? I need a hand in here!" Koniwa started shaking. Shock, probably. And all that movement was going straight down the blade and into his guts. Damn it, if Ichigo didn't do something, he was going to die.

It was Moyu all over again. Stupid pointless sacrifices. Muttering, "You know, if you people put as much effort into living as you do into killing yourselves, we'd get so much more done," Ichigo eased himself round behind his third seat so he could support the man's whole body.

"T-taichō?" murmured Koniwa, his voice all but inaudible.

"Don't try and talk. I've got you," Ichigo replied, holding the guy steady against him. "Oi! Someone! This is a fucking medical emergency, you morons!"

The door banged open and the last person Ichigo expected to see at the 6th, appeared in the doorway.

"Oh my goodness!" Yuzu yelped, dashing over and dumping her armful of medical supplies as she dropped to her knees. "What happened? Nii-chan, what - oh!" She'd seen the blade, clamped between Ichigo's hands and Koniwa's.

Ichigo would have paid a king's ransom for her not to have to deal with any of this, but right now she was all he had. He opened his mouth to ask her to run and fetch Takata-sensei, the 6th's medic, when Yuzu surprised him again.

"Well done, you did exactly the right thing not pulling the object out," she said. Her quiet voice flowed like calming balm over Ichigo's frazzled nerves and he felt himself relaxing, despite the hot pulse of Koniwa's blood over his hands. "Now can you tell me his name?"

"Koniwa," Ichigo replied, and found himself adding, "My third seat. Stupid bast- idiot thought I was piss- mad at him for going to the 2nd and decided to off himself in apology." Damn it, Yuzu could make him watch his tongue like no one else. Ichigo paused as Yuzu leaned forward, inspecting the knot of hands, dagger and sliced open gut closely, before adding a bit weakly, "He should have just chosen extra guard duty instead."

Yuzu flashed a quick grin up at Ichigo before lowering her head and saying, "Koniwa-san, did you hear that? Your captain isn't cross with you. In fact, he'd be a lot happier if you didn't die, so we're going to do our best to keep you alive, okay?"

Koniwa might have nodded, it was hard to tell he was shaking so much, but Ichigo thought he felt a grunt. It seemed to be enough for Yuzu. She grabbed a package from the pile of supplies she'd had with her and tore it open. It was gauze.

"I'm going to pack the area around the blade with this," she said, "He's losing a lot of blood and-"

"Yuzu, what are you- " Takata-sensei's voice came from the doorway, followed by a surprised, "Is that Koniwa?" and then an even more shocked, "Shiba-taichō?"

"That's me," Ichigo replied, gritting his teeth as Koniwa started another round of violent shaking. "Expecting someone else?" Sooner or later he was going to have to ask where the rest of his senior officers were while Soifon tried to do an end run around him. Right now it had to wait.

"More that you're still alive, which makes the 2nd's lieutenant a liar."

Not a liar, just misinformed. "Koniwa tried to gut himself," Ichigo explained.

"And you stopped him? After what he did?" Takata replied, making no move to come and help the patient.

Ichigo bit back a curse. Now was not the time to argue, he needed to take command. "Sixth seat Takata, you will treat this man or I will dismiss you from this division," he said, channelling his best Byakuya impression.

Yuzu, who had her back to Takata, made big impressed eyes at him, and mouthed, "Go, go, nii-chan."

Ichigo had to chew on the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning at her as he added, "Now, Takata!"

At the final snapped order, Takata finally sprang into action. Shouldering Yuzu aside, she thrust pinkly glowing hands towards Koniwa's belly, saying, "When you start to feel this, move your hands away, slowly. Bakudo 53, Koka: kinniku!"

The kidō which slid past Ichigo's fingers was similar to the one Iba-neesan had used on the fallen catwalk, except this one latched onto flesh, not steel and wood. Ichigo felt it tug slightly on his skin and drew his hands back, careful to take Koniwa's with him. The dagger stayed where it was, and even when Takata and Yuzu took Koniwa and, together, laid him over on his back, it didn't move.

Koniwa's eyes were wide, his pupils dilated and sweat beaded on his brow to run down his temples. Ichigo kept a grip on the man's shaking hand as Takata went to door and started yelling for a stretcher.

"T-taichō?" Koniwa whispered. It obviously hurt to speak, even with the kidō. "I- I am sorry. I-I only thought to-"

Ichigo shook his head. "I know. Chad told me. You got it wrong, but you were trying to do things right." He paused, thoughts turning to Hisana and Take. "You're gonna have to apologise to more than me, though. Hisana's jaw's bust and Take's moving like she's got a couple of broken ribs."

Koniwa's fake wince turned into a real one. "Damn, that hurts. Wouldn't have done it, if I'd known."

"You shouldn't have done it anyway. I never want anyone's life as an apology. You do something wrong, you damn well man-up and come and say sorry. None of these grand gestures, got it?"

Koniwa nodded as more feet clattered through the doorway and Ichigo was pushed aside by several harassed looking medics, who quickly loaded Koniwa onto a stretcher. The next moment, the room was empty, but for Yuzu. Ichigo stared down at his blood-drenched hands and clothes, and the huge drying puddle on the stone floor. He felt shaky, which was stupid. It was just blood. He saw it everyday, his own and other people's. Why was this bothering him so much?

"It's different, isn't it, when you're trying to stop them from dying," Yuzu said.

Ichigo's gaze rose to study his little sister's understanding face. That wasn't the all of it. In the past few weeks, Ichigo had held Renji when he was more meat than skin, and clamped his hands round Moyu's throat as the last of her lifeblood trickled through his fingers. Neither of those times had hit him as hard as this.

Then again, with Moyu he'd already known she was dead, and Unohana-taichō had been there to take responsibility for Renji, so maybe this was his first time. The first time one of his own men's lives had rested entirely on his shoulders.

Ichigo blew out a puff of air. "When did you get so wise?" he said, allowing his lips to quirk into something like a smile. And then, "Shit! Shin!" Because in all the panic over Koniwa, he'd completely forgotten that Shin was in the guardhouse.

As he scrambled to his feet, Yuzu frowned after him like he'd suddenly gone insane. Still, she followed as he hurried through into the holding area. Shin was in the first cell, lying flat on his back, a bloodied bandage wrapped round his faintly rising and falling chest.

Ichigo grabbed the keys off the hook on the wall and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Yuzu enter first, her being the medical expert and everything.

Shin didn't so much as stir, even as Yuzu checked him over and, after a minute or so, she stood up, saying, "He's stable. The wound in his chest hasn't penetrated anything vital, but there does seem to be some kind of drug in his system. A poison perhaps?"

Hisana had said he'd been hit with Soifon's zanpakutō. Was it a poison type? Off the top of his head, Ichigo didn't know, but he could check. Or send a runner to the 2nd to demand an answer. It was the least Soifon owed him. If Shin died, Ichigo'd be well within his rights to claim compensation.

"Where's Karin?" Yuzu asked, out of absolutely nowhere.

Ichigo blinked at her, his thought processes suddenly derailed. "Isn't she with you?" he asked. Yuzu was here, therefore someone must have fetched her, and that someone had to be Karin. Unohana-taichō wouldn't let her go for anyone else.

"No. She dropped me with the refugees and said she was going to report in. I haven't seen her since."

"Fucking crap!" Ichigo cursed, cheeks flushing slightly as he saw Yuzu's expression curl into disapproval. "Sorry, but I thought Karin was with you and-"

"Soifon-fukutaichō had her," a familiar voice said.

Ichigo swung round to find Hanatarō just entering the guardhouse, Chad darkening the doorway behind him. At some point the sun had come up. It was morning, the first full day of Ichigo's newly acquired bankai and though he'd got one little sister back, he'd lost the other one. Shit!

"Took her prisoner?" Ichigo demanded.

Hanatarō froze, his hands suddenly grabbing his hakama and squeezing the cloth reflexively. Biting back his frustration, Ichigo reeled in his furious reiatsu and tried again. "Did she take Karin prisoner with the others?"

The strategy worked. Hanatarō stopped panicking and said, "No, this was before. Sagara-fukutaichō was with Take-san checking the repairs on the wall when Soifon-fukutaichō arrived. I was in the backroom of the lieutenant's office with Shin-san. Karin-sama came in and started looking for something on the desk. She was muttering under her breath and sounded really cross, so Shin-san and I decided not to interfere."

Probably a wise choice. Ichigo wasn't sure he'd try and stop Karin searching his desk if she was in that kind of mood.

"Then suddenly the door slammed open and Soifon-fukutaichō came in. She didn't even give Karin-sama a chance to fight back. She just stabbed her with something and Karin-sama fell down."

Ichigo's gaze cut back to the slumbering Shin. The same thing? He had to hope, though this made his errand at the 2nd even more urgent. "Yuzu, can you handle Shin?" he asked, already moving.

"Yes," she replied, adding in a small voice, "Are you going after her, nii-chan?"

Her tone was enough to give him pause. He'd forgotten that, to Yuzu, the 6th was a place of strangers. With her brother and sister both gone, she'd probably feel very alone. "Chad'll be here," he said, nodding towards the big guy, who kind of waved in Yuzu's direction. "He'll keep an eye on you."

"That's not what I'm worried about!" Yuzu replied, fists going to her hips. "Takata-sensei is here and I know most of the medics. It's you, you idiot. You're going to the 2nd without any help. What are you going to do if Soifon won't give Karin back?"

Damn it, what was it with his sisters and growing up on him. "I've got bankai now, I'll be fine," Ichigo shot back, pushing out of the cell and heading for the courtyard.

Despite saying she'd look after Shin, Yuzu followed, still haranguing him. "To fight a whole division? And anyway, you're a captain now. You're not allowed into another division without an invitation."

That was true and something Ichigo hadn't actually considered. Briefly he wondered if Urahara might co-operate since he and Soifon weren't exactly best buddies, before dismissing the idea because Soifon was Yoruichi's lover and Urahara obviously adored Yoruichi.

Left with no other options, he said, "So I'll work it out when I get there," and started heading back towards the main building. The courtyard had miraculously cleared, which Ichigo really appreciated right this minute, otherwise his division would be witness to him being badgered by yet another small female, as if Hisana and Karin weren't enough.

"Plans like that never work, you know what Uryū-chan says," Yuzu replied.

"'It's too late to dig a well when you're already thirsty?'"

Ichigo stopped and spun round, because that voice hadn't been Yuzu's. Behind him, stretched back in a line, stood his sister, Hanatarō and Chad. And behind them, Yoruichi and a dizzy-looking but very much alive, Karin.

"Yo," Yoruichi said, smile bright as she waved. "I found something that belongs to you."

Torn between bone-deep relief at Karin being fine and wanting to kill Yoruichi, along with the rest of her division, for making the last few days of his life an utter misery, Ichigo clenched his teeth and ground out, "I'll be in my office, when you all decide to grow up," before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Yoruichi's bell-like laugh followed him, alongside Yuzu's joy over Karin being safe.

Feeling like an ass, and very much left out of the family reunion, Ichigo stomped faster. The guard on the main doors snapped to attention as he passed by and Ichigo snarled back over his shoulder at the guy, "Get me something to eat, will you! A man could starve to death around here."

His bad mood lasted until he reached the office. Tiredly, he sank into his chair, leaned back and almost rubbed his face before he remembered his hands were covered in Koniwa's blood.

"Fuck," he murmured and dragged himself upright again. Tugging his swords out of his obi, he propped them up by the door on his way into the little backroom. There was a toilet just off it and beside that, a hand operated water pump.

A few minutes later, Ichigo's hands were clean, though his feet were now soaked. He sucked at that part.

Kicking off wet tabi, he worked out that the reddish brown stains on them were blood from his shihakushō, and gave some serious thought to just manifesting himself a whole new outfit. The sight of his swords changed his mind for him. No more manifesting. That was a Quincy shortcut that he couldn't afford to keep taking, not until he understood what the fall-out might be. For now, he'd just have to do what every other shinigami in the Gotei did, and order new uniforms from the quartermaster. And since he had exactly zero clean ones left, that was exactly what he was going to have to do.

He was searching for the right requisition form when a knock came at the door. "That'd better be food!" he called, glancing up to see Hisana pulling the door open. Except Hisana had a broken jaw, so she shouldn't have her arm in a sling and a bandage over one eye.

"Rukia?" he said, suddenly realising exactly who was standing in front of him. "What the hell? Chad said you were dead!"

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, a shadow of the snippy attitude-packed woman Ichigo remembered. Then again, if she was at the 6th, she was a refugee, so yeah, it made sense she'd be a bit subdued.

"Sure, sorry. Come in, sit down." Ichigo gestured to the chair across the desk from him. Rukia sat when he did and for a second they stared at each other in awkward silence. "I erm… I'm sorry for your loss," Ichigo said finally, which made it sound like Ukitake was dead, not defeated.

"Thank you," Rukia replied, apparently taking his words in the spirit they were intended.

Silence fell again and this time Ichigo kept his mouth shut, waiting for Rukia to make the first move. Inevitably, it came out of nowhere. "They're saying you have bankai now," she said. "Is this true?"

There was nothing in her tone that reflected the respect someone of her rank should show a captain. Ichigo let it pass. This conversation was between two people, not two soldiers. Whatever Rukia had come here for, he didn't think was Gotei business.

"It is," he replied simply.

She nodded, her uncovered eye steady as it met his. "Are you strong enough to defend your division now?"

It was on the tip of Ichigo's tongue to claim he'd always been strong enough, but there was no point in lying. Rukia had seen him fall before the sōtaichō's reiatsu. She knew how weak he'd been.

"Now? Yes." He was too. Exhaustion aside, he could feel it.

Maybe she could too because she nodded again and her expression changed slightly, settling on something determined. "Then I shall make my report to you, Shiba-taichō."

"Report-?" Ichigo began, only to get a more familiar narrow-eyed look cast in his direction. He took the hint and shut up.

"The reason I am not dead, is that before he had his latest turn, Ukitake-taichō sent me to the living world to search for Byakuya."

Ichigo's breath caught in his throat and his fingertips scraped across paper as his hands curled into fists, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. He didn't know whether he wanted to hear that she'd found them or that they were still missing.

If they were there, would Rukia insist on telling the sōtaichō? And if she did, what would he do to silence her? Could he kill Hisana's sister?

Yes, he decided. To keep Byakuya and Renji safe, he could. Though it would be his last act as a captain and serving shinigami. Now he had Yuzu, there was nothing stopping him from fleeing Seireitei with her and Karin and joining the rest of his family in Rukongai. Nothing except his father, but he knew what Isshin's opinion would be on that, so saving him didn't figure into Ichigo's calculations.

Some of what he'd been thinking must have shown on his face because Rukia was staring at him. Ichigo swallowed, forced a smile onto his face, and nodded, "And did you find him?"

She inclined her head, an oddly regal movement that reminded Ichigo strongly of her sister, and said, "I did. And Abarai Renji as well."

A rush of air escaped Ichigo's mouth. Both of them. She found both of them. "Are they alive?"

"When I left them, yes. Although both had sustained injuries from their recent experiences."

That was cryptic. He'd get more details out of her later, right now Ichigo needed to cut to the chase. "And you're telling me this why? Shouldn't you be informing the sōtaichō or the 2nd division?" And shit, Yoruichi was around here somewhere.

Shoving his chair back, Ichigo stood, hurried to the door and pushed it open. The hallway was empty, but for Hanatarō, who was sitting against the far wall just as he always did when Ichigo was having a private audience. At some point he'd found the time to wash and change his clothes, though he still looked battered and bruised. Beside him stood a tray of tea and snacks.

"For you, Shiba-sama, I brought it myself," he said, lifting the tray and offering it to Ichigo. The wobble of excitement in his voice said he'd heard every word that had been exchanged.

Not that he mentioned it. Instead, as Ichigo took the tray off him, he said, "Oh and Sado-san instructed me to tell you that Sagara-fukutaichō and Take-san are receiving treatment for their injuries. Yuzu-san and Karin-san are both helping the refugees, and that he is personally keeping Yoruichi-sama company while she administers the antidote for Soifon-fukutaichō's poison to Shin-san."

In other words, there was no one listening in to this conversation that Ichigo didn't know about. Ichigo nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Hanatarō. I've missed having you around."

The little guy's smile and bow were as enthusiastic as ever. "It's no trouble, Shiba-sama. Please enjoy your tea."

Ichigo kicked the door closed and found Rukia looking at him curiously. "What?" he asked, carrying the tray to the desk and putting it down.

"I'm just not used to people treating negators like that," she said. "Doesn't he, I don't know, give you the creeps?"

Ichigo's gaze cut to the door. Hanatarō would hear anything he said, but since Rukia had asked the question, silence wasn't an option. He opted for the truth, or as close as he could come. "When I first saw him, yeah," he said, "but then I realised that the way he looked wasn't his fault, so getting creeped out wouldn't be fair. Plus, he's a good guy to have around. Brave." Ichigo shrugged and finished on the only note that felt right. "He's my friend."

Rukia hummed in what might have been agreement and might not, then she said, "The only person I was ever ordered to report to was Ukitake-taichō. Since he is no longer captain of the 13th, standard procedure dictates that I report my findings to my new captain. Who could be Tōsen-taichō, or the current commander of the 6th division, so long as he offers me enough incentive to sign on."

Now that was more like the Rukia Ichigo remembered from the abortive attempt to rescue Renji. He grinned and picked up the tea-pot. "That might work. Depending on what sort of incentives are acceptable."

He never got a chance to find out. No sooner had he poured the tea than Hanatarō called out, "Hisana-fukutaichō, the captain is busy right now-!"

The door slammed back. Hisana rushed into the room and stopped dead, her eyes fixed on Rukia. For a moment neither of the sisters moved and then they lurched towards each other, falling into each other's arms.

Ichigo caught a glimpse of tears, heard, "I thought you were dead," and, "Me too," before deciding that discretion was called for. Picking up his tea, he tip-toed past the sisters, out of the room, and closed the door behind him. Some things were meant to be private, and this was definitely one of them.

Hanatarō was waiting outside. He greeted Ichigo with his usual apology, which Ichigo brushed off. No matter what sort of meeting he was in the middle of, he'd never have stopped Hisana from seeing her sister. And anyway, now he knew Renji and Byakuya were alive and safe, he could afford to be generous.

Feeling lighter than he had since he'd woken that morning just under a month ago to find Byakuya gone and himself the new captain of the 6th, Ichigo sank to the floor and waved at Hanatarō to join him. "So," he said, once they were comfortable, "While they're hogging my office, how about you tell me all about your daring escape."

* * *

"You don't have to stay, you know."

From his place blocking the narrow doorway, Yasutora considered the amber eyes laughing up at him and decided not to comment.

They'd brought Shin to the Shiba house, and his small servant's room was perfect for keeping wily intruders contained. Of course there was nothing stopping Yoruichi from changing into a cat and escaping that way, but then Yasutora would know she was loose and would go tell Ichigo, who would put the division on alert, which would defeat the object of her being unsupervised in the first place.

Alternatively, she could just kill him and leave, but since that would result in lock-down too, Yasutora didn't think it was likely.

In short, Yoruichi knew he was only hanging around to keep tabs on her and he knew she knew, so there was no point discussing it. End of story.

The minutes passed. Yasutora stood and silently bore witness to Yoruichi painstakingly administering minute doses of some murky green substance from a glass vial into Shin's chest wound.

Every drop that went in, smoked, and as the antidote began to work, Shin grew increasingly restless. His hands flexed against the covers and sounds that might have been words started to fall from his lips.

"One more and it'll have to do," Yoruichi said finally. "He'll be weak for a few days but, with luck, there'll be no lingering effects."

Yasutora nodded, filing the information away to tell Ichigo later and then asked, "Did you do this for Karin?" He didn't see how she could have. There hadn't been time between Soifon leaving the 6th and Yoruichi turning up with a recovering Karin in tow.

Checking the vial, Yoruichi shook her head. "No, her injury was in the arm. It only needed the single dose. This guy," she looked down at Shin, who was now sweating profusely but breathing much easier. "He wasn't as lucky. Because the wound was deep and so close to his heart, he would have been dead in another few hours."

Murdered, Yasutora thought, but didn't say. His prejudices against shinigami had no place here, not when the head of the Shihōin clan had spent the past hour on her knees treating a servant.

The last dose went in. Shin moaned Hanatarō's name and thrashed slightly until Yoruichi put a hand to his forehead and breathed something under her breath, then he slid seamlessly into a deep sleep.

"And that's that," she said, slipping the vial into her kimono sleeve and pushing to her feet. She grinned up at Yasutora. "Where now? The division's vaults? The super-secret storerooms? Or is it a, 'Thank you, ma'am' followed by a straight march to the front gate."

Yasutora inclined his head in acknowledgement of her seeing the humour in the situation, though he suspected she thought a lot of things were funny, and told her, "Ichigo wants to see you before you leave."

He'd got the message from Karin when she'd swung round to grab a change of uniform, and she'd got it from Hisana, who was apparently hanging around Ichigo's office looking squirrelly about something. Presumably, if it was something which concerned him directly, Yasutora would find out the specifics once they arrived.

They were at the bottom of the sloped path that ran from the Shiba house to the new gate into the 6th division grounds, when Yoruichi suddenly stopped in her tracks. Yasutora continued on a couple of steps before realising he was alone and turning back.

The expression on Yoruichi's face was distant, like she was concentrating hard on something, then she suddenly sprang back to life. "The main gates. Now!" she ordered, and was gone before Yasutora could even react.

Given no real choice, he headed in that direction too, and arrived to find her already there. Or at least, perched on the walls a short distance away from gates, was a black cat, which Yasutora assumed was her. He stared up at it for a second, before hopping up to join it, saying, "The people here already think I'm mad."

"Eh, talking to animals is normal," the cat replied, in a voice far deeper than Yoruichi's normal one. "It's when the animals start talking back you have to worry." It blinked large gold eyes up at him, before leaping up on his shoulder. "That's better. I want a really good view for this."

"This?" Yasutora asked, just as a group of shinigami shimmered to a halt right outside the gates. There was maybe half a dozen of them, and they were lead by a woman with long dark hair wearing a captain's haori.

Inside, the alarm immediately went up. Yasutora went to move, maybe to intercept the group and at least find out who they were, but was stopped by Yoruichi's hiss and her claws pricking his skin.

"There's nothing you can do," she rumbled in his ear. "That is Unohana-taichō, captain of the 4th and 11th divisions."

_The_ Kenpachi and the only officer in the history of the Gotei to hold two captaincies simultaneously. Even Yasutora knew who Unohana Retsu was.

"I'm assuming she's here for Yuzu," Yoruichi continued. "And going by the escort, she's not prepared to take no for an answer." A slight growl worked its way up her throat and Yasutora felt her tail begin to thrash back and forth against his back. "I hope that boy's bankai is as strong as Kisuke says it is, or this is all going to be a huge waste of effort."

Having no idea what she was muttering about, Yasutora focused his attention on the shinigami. One of Unohana's escort stepped forward, rapped loudly on the gate, and called out, "'Ware the house! Unohana-taichō requests and demands the immediate return of her apprentice, Yuzu, last seen entering this division's grounds not less than three hours ago."

After a hurried discussion, the guard who'd drawn the short straw cracked open the small window in the gate and called back in a shaky voice, "Your request is acknowledged, Unohana-taichō. An answer will be forthcoming once our captain has been appraised of the situation."

"Don't bother, Yamaki," Ichigo said, suddenly appearing on the wall right above the gate. "I'm already here. And the answer, Unohana-taichō, is no, you can't have her back. She's staying with me."

Reiatsu like boiling blood swelled from the captain down below, lifting her hair into waving snake-like tendrils. Yasutora shivered, his heart suddenly racing and his mouth dry from fear. It felt like death stalked behind him, a blade pressed to his throat.

He swallowed and, using the sting of Yoruichi's claws in his shoulder as a focus, managed to get himself back under control just in time to hear Unohana saying, "If you will not return her, you must face the consequences. Either way, I will have satisfaction, Shiba."

The lack of rank was probably significant, though Yasutora couldn't think straight enough right now to work out why.

Ichigo seemed to be taking it all in his stride. Head held high, and white haori stirring slightly in the breeze, he called back in a rock steady voice, "If you want to fight, Unohana-taichō, I'll meet you any time you want in the challenge arena. But, before you decide, you should know what you'll be facing."

As he spoke, he drew his two swords from his obi, and crossed them in front of him, the shorter one on the vertical, the longer on the horizontal. Reiatsu began to swirl around him, building higher and stronger with every second, much stronger than it had been before, even back in Urahara's training area. Dark spots started to crawl across Yasutora's vision and his breathing faltered.

Then Yoruichi's reiatsu slid in alongside his own, bolstering it and supporting him. It was enough to keep him upright, and he was even more grateful for the help when the next moment, Ichigo released, reiatsu thundering out across all the surrounding area. "Ban-kai!"

The blast was blinding. Yasutora covered his face with one hand, and when he lowered it again, almost everything about Ichigo had changed. Though thankfully, unlike earlier, he still looked completely human. His hair had lengthened down his back and got shaggier somehow, and his kosode had turned into the same long coat as last time, cut slim at the top and flaring away to a ragged hem, only now it was edged with white trim. But the real difference was in Ichigo's two swords.

They were both pure black, so dark that they almost seeming to absorb the light around them. And the longer of the two, though still definitely a sword, now had three smaller blades, like hooks, sweeping backwards from about halfway up. Yasutora had seen similar designs in museums, though those had been on polearms. He remembered that the hooks were for trapping opponent's weapons, or for dragging them down off horses. Or out of shunpo, Yasutora guessed, if you were a shinigami and could track someone well enough to do it.

The other sword, the smaller one, had completely changed shape. Now it was a double-headed sickle type thing, mounted on a shortish pole. And it seemed to be connected to the larger sword by a long black chain that hung loosely behind Ichigo's back.

"Tensa Zangetsu!" Ichigo finished.

Excited whispers broke out in the courtyard behind, punctuated by the odd shout of, "Shiba-taichō!" and, "Fighting 6th!" The shinigami outside the gates seemed less impressed, which was frustrating since that had been the whole point of Ichigo's display.

Yoruichi growled unhappily, her tail back to its mad swinging, as Unohana-taichō began to smile. Somehow, it made her even more terrifying than before, and Yasutora had to fight the urge to take a step back. Which was a good thing since the edge of the wall was right behind him.

"You have bankai," Unohana said, "And a true dual wield. Impressive." Her voice rose slightly, "This being the case, and now that you are finally able to protect her properly, I renounce my claim on your sister, Yuzu. From this point forth, Shiba-kun, she is entrusted to your care."

Everyone, including the shinigami who'd come with Unohana, looked absolutely gob-smacked at the captain's sudden capitulation. The only people who didn't were Unohana herself and Ichigo, who nodded graciously and said, "Thank you, Kenpachi-taichō. I'm grateful for your generosity in caring for my sister while I was unable to do so."

"Her training isn't complete," Unohana continued, her voice dropping back to conversational level. "I expect her to return regularly to the 4th, and for Takata-sensei to continue her instruction here between times."

Ichigo's gaze darted back towards the courtyard. Yasutora's followed it and found Yuzu, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression alternately excited and terrified. When she saw her brother looking at her, she nodded vigorously, and Ichigo immediately turned back to Unohana, saying, "That'll be fine. Give her a week or so to settle in here first, all right?"

Unohana raised an elegant eyebrow and said, "And for your lawyers to draw up the relevant clan papers?"

A slight blush rose on Ichigo's cheeks and he shrugged. "You can't be too careful."

"Indeed you can't," Unohana replied. "Tell Yuzu I expect to see her two weeks from today, a hour before the morning bell. And I expect her to have made significant progress in her studies."

"I'll be there, taichō!" Yuzu called, and then slammed both hands over her mouth, blushing frantically.

A less terrifying smile briefly curled Unohana's lips, before she nodded once, stepped into shunpo and vanished, along with her escort.

If Yasutora hadn't been looking, he'd have missed Ichigo's slight wobble. As it was, he did see it, and so did Yoruichi. "Damn it," she hissed, "He's going to drop any second."

Leaving hot lines of pain in her wake, she leapt from Yasutora's shoulder, briefly reappeared, stunningly naked, in her human form beside Ichigo, and then disappeared again, taking Ichigo along with her. A couple of cries of protest rose from the shinigami of the 6th, but they died away a moment later when fourth seat Hashigawa, took Ichigo's place on the wall and started issuing orders.

Having been left behind yet again, Yasutora hopped down into the courtyard and headed towards Ichigo's office. He'd only gone a couple of steps when someone skipped up beside him. It was Yuzu and she was grinning fit to burst. "You're Chad, aren't you," she said, "Nii-chan's friend. I kind of remember you from before. I'm really happy to finally meet you."

* * *

Ichigo ate. Bowl after bowl of rice. Every time he emptied one, it was replaced with another, and Ichigo started again. Objectively speaking, he should be stuffed, but his stomach didn't feel full. Each portion went down as easy as the last and eventually it got kind of zen, like an eating meditation. His hands clasped bowl and chopsticks, his mouth chewed and swallowed, and his mind drifted, as empty as the stack of bowls at his elbow.

And slowly, he felt his reiryoku stabilise. His cracks filled, his hollowed out places shrank, until eventually, like heavy rain on parched soil, he overflowed, reiryoku starting to trickle out in the form of reiatsu. And with it came more rational thought.

He had bankai.

Byakuya and Renji were alive and safe in the living world.

Yuzu was safe and home.

"You know, sitting there, smiling like that, makes you look like you're on the good drugs."

Ichigo blinked, and realised three things simultaneously. One: he was back in his office. Two: Yoruichi was sitting cross-legged on the desk in front of him. And three: the short kosode she was wearing covered absolutely nothing.

"Put some damned pants on!" Ichigo yelped, screwing his eyes shut, and covering them with his hand just in case he was tempted to peek, because, no matter how many times Yoruichi flashed him, that view was never going to get old.

Rich laughter rang in his ears. "Finally, you're feeling better. I was wondering how long that was going to take." There was a hiss of cloth and the light thump of feet hitting the floor.

"Course I'm feeling better," Ichigo grumbled, his eyes still firmly closed. "You've been force feeding me for the past half hour. And, by the way, couldn't you have found something tastier than rice porridge."

"It's the most easily digested." There was more sounds of cloth and then Yoruichi said, "You can open your eyes now."

Ichigo did as he was told, and found Yoruichi wearing the same blue hakama she'd been wearing earlier.

"If they were in here, why'd didn't you put them on before?" he demanded, pushing a half-full bowl away in semi-disgust. Now he just felt bloated.

"And pass up such a great chance to tease?" Yoruichi replied, dodging in and ruffling his hair. Ichigo growled at her and she flashed a grin back at him as she trod over to the door.

She was leaving. Ichigo scraped his brain together. Before she left, he needed to know where they stood with each other. He needed to cut through all her flirting and bullshit and get a straight answer to a really simple question. "Did you know?" he blurted as her hand touched the door. "What Urahara would do to me, when you sent me to him to get bankai?"

For a long moment, Yoruichi stood silently, her head bowed. Then she said in a subdued voice, "Kisuke has his ways. They're not without risk, but they do work a lot of the time."

Which was exactly what Ichigo thought. She had known. That was disappointing.

With a sigh, he stood up. "In that case, I want to thank you for helping my sister and Shin today, but from this point on, we're no longer friends."

"You're turning against me?" Yoruichi demanded, her eyes gleaming as she turned to face him.

"No," Ichigo replied. "I won't move against you. You know where my family is, I'm not that stupid." Uryū and Ryūken would've moved by now, of course, but Yoruichi didn't need to know that. "But I do expect certain things from the people who fight alongside me, and one of those is that they won't stab me in the back. I'm sorry but I have a lot of people relying on me right now, and I can't trust you, or Urahara, not to betray me again."

Shrewd amber eyes studied him. "I see," she said finally. "You're sure about this?"

Ichigo stared back at her without answering. He was surer about it than he had been about a lot of things. Byakuya and Renji's lives might depend on it.

Eventually she nodded. "So be it, then. Good luck, Shiba-taichō." Pulling open the door, she walked out, calling loudly, "Okay, crisis over. He's all yours."

Seconds later a squeal of, "Nii-chan", was followed by Yuzu dashing into the office. She flung herself at Ichigo, grabbing him into a hug like she was never letting go. Take entered next at a more sensible pace, with Hisana and Rukia behind her, looking like they were permanently attached to each other. Karin came in last, made a beeline for the only other empty chair in the room and slumped down into it.

Chad hovered purposefully in the doorway, his expression questioning. Ichigo jerked his head in the direction Yoruichi had taken and Chad sped off after her. That would make sure she at least left the premises, though currently there was nothing to stop her coming back in if she wanted. It was time Ichigo took some precautions.

"Hisana, after we're done here, I need you to draw up a standing order banning black cats from division grounds," he said after a moment's thought.

Hisana did a bit of a double take, but nodded. "Black cats. Yes, sir." Her speech was a little slurred and there were greenish bruises along the edge of her jaw, but she insisted she was fine.

It could have been so much worse. The second had a lot answer for. None of his people were safe while they had free access to his division, and now Ichigo had an even more important secret to keep.

"On second thoughts, make that all cats, just in case she can change colour as well as shape," he amended. That earned him an even stranger look. Ichigo ignored it and pressed on.

"Take, this is my other little sister, Yuzu." He gestured to Take. "Yuzu, this is Take, she used to be on my personal guard. She's really good at it, so now you're with us, I'm going to put her in charge of guarding you. Okay?"

Releasing Ichigo's arm, Yuzu dipped a little bow at Take and then smiled up at her. "It's nice to meet you, Take-san. Please take good care of me."

Take's face cracked into a wry grin. "Little sis got all the manners in the family, did she, taichō?" she said, before returning Yuzu's proper greeting.

Ichigo watched the pair with a growing sense of relief. He knew he could trust Take, not just to put herself between Yuzu and danger, but to help her settle in and feel at home around the 6th, which was going to be vital since he and Karin weren't going to have time to do it. "I need you to set her up somewhere," he said, "I'm guessing near the infirmary, since that's where she'll be working. She can sleep up at the house, so bunking room isn't a problem."

"Yes, sir," Take replied, nodding a bow. She gestured for Yuzu to go ahead of her out of the door, "This way, Yuzu-sama."

Yuzu cast a confused look back at Ichigo, who immediately felt like shit for throwing his little sister out so soon after being reunited with her. But he had things to sort out. Important things that couldn't wait.

"Karin and I'll see you back at the house for dinner," he said, willing her to understand.

Yuzu's gaze flicked from him to Karin, and then over to Hisana and Rukia. Apparently the sight of all those uniforms made her realise that this was now a business meeting, and she conjured up a bright fake smile. "Of course, nii-chan, Karin-chan. That'll be great. I'll see you there!"

She hurried out after Take, and Ichigo sat listening to her excited chatter drift back along the corridor. When it faded away to nothing, he asked, "Is Hanatarō keeping watch?"

"Yeah," Karin replied, "He's there. So can we finally get on to what all the secrecy's about? I assume it's something to do with Rukia not being dead."

Ichigo hadn't been there when Karin found out her friend was alive, but he'd bet anything she hadn't been so dismissive then. "It has. Rukia? Want to have another shot at giving me that report?"


	23. Keeping Up the Day Job

Hanatarō waved Yasutora straight in when he got back to the office. He peered through the door to find Ichigo alone, hunched over his desk, a pot of tea steaming in front of him. He'd changed back into his white haori and now looked every inch the Gotei captain, and it struck Yasutora yet again what differences their three years apart had wrought in them. It had made Ichigo a professional soldier. Yasutora wasn't sure what it had made him, except perhaps unemployable by anyone except Ichigo.

On that depressing thought, he pushed the door open and went in. Ichigo looked up immediately and waved Yasutora to a seat. "I need you to deliver something for me," he began, before frowning. "Yoruichi left without any hassles, yeah?"

Yasutora nodded. No hassles was one way of putting it. She'd been perfectly polite and absolutely co-operative. In fact, Yasutora would have been back in half the time if he hadn't been waylaid by Yuzu who'd seemed to need some kind of reassurance that she was actually welcome at the 6th. Yasutora had added his voice to Take's and by the time they'd parted company, Yuzu's smile had seemed less fragile.

Not that he was going to tell Ichigo that. Yuzu would be fine. She had her sister and her brother, she just needed to trust they'd always be there for her.

"Good," Ichigo said, going back to his writing. "If you see her around here again, in cat or human form, throw her out. I've told her she's not welcome anymore, not after what happened."

He had to be talking about the hollowfication. Which meant Yoruichi had to have known about it beforehand, because Ichigo would have checked before blaming her as well as Urahara. It was Ichigo's decision to make, but still, she was a powerful woman, with powerful friends. Yasutora just hoped antagonising her wouldn't come back to bite them all in the ass later.

"We're not enemies or anything," Ichigo continued, proving that even three years apart hadn't dulled his ability to read Yasutora's thoughts. "More than anything, I needed an excuse to keep her out of the 6th. Right now, I can't trust her."

He scribbled a few more kanji, put his brush down, and blew gently on the ink. Once it was done, he sat back and grinned at Yasutora. It was such an unexpected expression that for a second Yasutora was tempted to check for giant pods or aliens.

Then Ichigo explained it all away.

"Rukia found Byakuya and Renji," he said, his grin growing even wider.

Abarai Renji, the old fukutaichō? Yasutora thought he was in jail, not with the previous captain.

"They're alive and being looked after by, of all people, Tatsuki's freaking grandfather, old man Arisawa." Ichigo waved distractedly. "Eh, you probably don't remember him, but he was a friend of my dad's and uncle Ryūken. Or Ryūken's father, I guess. It was before my time."

And they were in the living world, in Karakura. Yasutora's fingers curled into fists on his knees. According to Rukia, the last time they were there, they'd killed Ichigo and his whole family. Were Tatsuki and hers now in danger? Ichigo didn't seem to think so, but then Kira had said he wasn't always rational when it came to these men.

"Anyway, Byakuya was injured during some kind of fight with a hollow," Ichigo continued, "but he's okay. They're hiding out in some kind of Quincy panic-room under Karakura General. That was when Rukia bolted. She was worried about getting locked in there with them when she needed to report back to Ukitake. Course, she got back to Seireitei and found the 13th in Tōsen's hands, so she came here looking for her sister, only to walk into the middle of the Soifon mess."

Apparently oblivious to Yasutora's growing concerns, Ichigo began folding the sheet of paper. "As soon as she could, she came and reported to me instead. Rukia's good people. I was thinking of making her joint third seat with Koniwa. She can cover his duties until he's better and keep him from screwing up again."

The shinigami at the 6th didn't often speak to Yasutora, but they did speak to each other when he was around, and he'd heard several people already speculating as to why Ichigo had bothered saving Koniwa's life. Most of them seemed to assume that it was so the third seat could be punished publicly once he was healed enough to make a decent example of.

And Ichigo was letting him stay on? At the same rank? That wasn't going to go down well. But mentioning that to Ichigo right now wouldn't help either. It'd make more sense to tell Shin. He'd know how to handle it.

"So anyway, I want you to take this to them." Ichigo held out the folded paper, which Yasutora realised had to be a letter when he took it and saw the names on the front. "I'd go myself…" The smile dimmed. "I _want_ to go myself, but there's just no way, right now. Not with everything. And I thought, who better than you to deliver the bad news."

Ichigo barked a small sound that might have been a laugh when he first thought of making it, and his gaze cut away to the corner of the room. "I mean, it's not exactly a 'Dear John' letter, but it might as well be. Hey guys, I miss the hell out of you, but you know, the job comes first and all that."

"They'll understand," Yasutora said.

Ichigo's eyes rose to meet his, and the hope in them was painful. "You think?"

Yasutora nodded. "They used to command the 6th. They have family. They'll understand."

Hope shifted over and gave a little space to confidence. "You're right. Shit, if I went myself while all this crap's going down, they'd probably kick my ass straight back through the senkaimon and call me a deserter." Ichigo's mouth twisted into a half smile. "Thanks. I'm sending Rukia back with you, by the way. The way she tells it, they probably won't trust her enough to let her in, but she can show you where the room's hidden, so you'll have to take it from there."

Yasutora turned that thought over in his mind before saying, "No problem." At least she knew where this room was. He hadn't fancied searching for it. Karakura General was a large building.

And going there would let him meet these men for himself and make up his own mind about them.

"You'll go out through the old Kyōraku senkaimon. Apparently Ukitake's access to it was never cancelled and the damn thing's still up and running after all these years. Trouble is, it's out in district twelve east, so it's a bit of a trek to get out there. Rukia reckons she can make it in a day, but if you need to take more time, that's not a problem." When Ichigo's eyes lifted this time, they were all business. "You've not been to the living world since you died, have you."

Yasutora shook his head. They didn't exactly run day trips from the Pits.

"That's what I thought. If you see any hollows, let Rukia handle them. She has a zanpakutō so she can cleanse them properly. Same thing goes for any human souls."

It was on the tip of Yasutora's tongue to say he had a zanpakutō too now, when Ichigo continued, "Most importantly, stay away from the living. If anyone speaks to you, ignore them. Or, if they won't go away, make them think you're a film extra or a cosplayer or something. Do _not_ tell them you're from Soul Society."

Was this like one of those time travel butterfly things? If people knew where they came after they died, did that stop them crossing over?

"It's to keep them safe," Ichigo explained. "Only people with high enough spiritual pressure can see ghosts or shinigami. And humans with pressure that high attract the wrong sort of attention."

And end up dead, Yasutora thought. Like you and I did, even if the methods of dispatch were different. "What about Tatsuki and her grandfather?" he asked.

"If they've survived this long, they must know how to keep their heads down, so don't worry about them." Ichigo frowned. "Old man Arisawa probably got the low down from dad years ago. Bastard told everyone but his own fucking family." He shoved his chair back and stood up, scowling. "Rukia's grabbing supplies. Meet her up at the house. You can set off from there and go out the back way. Any questions?"

Yasutora looked down at the letter in his hands, at the names written on it, and then back up at Ichigo. "How will I know who they are?"

For a second Ichigo just glared at him, obviously still caught up in the anger at his father, then he blinked and said, "Crap, you never met them did you. I keep forgetting." He ducked down and dragged out a desk draw. After scrabbling around in it for a moment, he reappeared with something in his hand. "Here," he said and shoved it at Yasutora. "Byakuya's the guy on the left. Renji's on the right."

And Ichigo was the one in the middle. Going by the clothes, the picture had obviously been taken on some formal occasion. They all stood to attention, the only hint of anything other than a professional relationship between them, the way Byakuya's hand rested on Ichigo's shoulder. It looked proprietorial.

Yasutora studied the man's face. He was good looking, but his expression was distant, cold almost, and it wasn't hard to believe that Kira had been right about him being cruel. And dressed the way he was, he wouldn't have looked out of place in an old samurai movie. Probably playing the cruel young lord who ends up dead halfway through.

And the other man, Abarai Renji, would have been the bandit king who killed him. Yasutora had heard about the red hair and tattoos, but no one had said the guy had them on his face!

"You can't really mistake them," Ichigo said.

Yasutora glanced up. Ichigo was staring at the picture, looking a bit lost. He might not speak about them much, and other people might have their doubts, but Ichigo seemed to genuinely love these two men. Which was enough for Yasutora.

He held out the picture. "It's not a problem," he said. Ichigo took the photo and sank down in his chair, his expression yearning as his thumb brushed across the images. It reminded Yasutora of Yuzu earlier, when she'd been so worried that her brother didn't want her anymore.

Even watching it was painful. Yasutora gave Ichigo a couple of seconds before saying, "I'd better go."

Ichigo glanced up. "Okay. Be careful. Come back safe."

Yasutora turned to leave, paused, and said, "I'll bring something back." Like a letter, or a picture. Even if he had to force them to write something. He didn't understand all the ins and outs of what had happened to make them leave, and frankly he didn't much want to know. All he wanted was for Ichigo to know that he was still loved.

"That would be good. Thanks."

Not bothering to answer, Yasutora left the room, closing the door behind him.

_fine_


End file.
